Untitled
by koolkaori
Summary: Not your typical AmeliaZelgadis stories. I tripledogdare you to read it.
1. Default Chapter

Creator's note:

People are reading this, which is awesome. Your comments and encouragements and such have been most excellent. Thank you all.

That aside, since people are reading, I feel compelled to make revisions. We can't have people perusing all our craptastic typo's and such, can we? New intros, too. It's been four years, so a lot of my editorial nonsense seems out-moded now. It's purely selfish. The more revisions I upload, the more readers I get, meaning more feedback which also means I get to grow into better writer. Cool.

This first chapter was the shortest, mainly because I didn't think the narrative would take so long. At this point I had already mapped out major plot points, but everything else seemed to exist as nebulous little concepts floating randomly in the ether of my psyche. I needed to find the voice of this story, half of which was Zelgadis's because he was telling it. he was always my favorite Slayers Character from since I was a 16-year-old wearing all black and writing bloody-terrible poetry (just like anyone one else). I wanted to write a story about him, but I became more interested in Amelia the more I fooled around with the idea. For some reason, I ended up convincing myself that she looked like Audrey Tatuou, probably to give Mr. Greyswords some sort of visual incentive (which really didn't matter). It was more for myself, anyhow, I needed a muse compatible with my own delusional hell. I have a lovely cache of Amelia/Audrey drawings to show for it (I actually make a fantastic living as an artist). I'll e-mail these to anyone who thinks up a title for me.

P.S. Please write reviews. Long, angry ones, or whatever. Just be specific---this is a work in progress and I would appreciate constructive feedback and/or ideas. . . .

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He fingered the charm as he entered the city. He normally avoided places so public as this, but his quest made it necessary. It was Lina who told him about the Library . Their separate journeys found them pursuing the same relic one day and when she explained why they would be after the same item, he had no choice but to travel to Seyruun to see this Library . He expected he would see HER when he got there, in fact, it was also necessary.

The Great Library of Seyruun was Lina's Library . At least, that's what Amelia told everyone. It made sense considering all Lina had done, all she had been involved with, and eventually involved the princess of Seyruun with. Not that this was Lina's fault---she would've rather not had Amelia along for the ride, but these things happen regardless of whose fault it is, accidental or no. That is, if you believed in fate, which Zelgadis did not.

The truth of the matter was that in Zelgadis's mind, it was too clever a ruse to be otherwise. It not only brought even more renown to Seyruun, it kept the city safe from Lina Inverse's detrimental karma by keeping her occupied with the task of finding the more obscure texts outside and well away from within its city limits. This was to the princess's credit.

On the other hand, he knew that Amelia would know that this sort of thing would entice him to Seyruun. However, the princess had never mentioned it in any of her short, noncommittal letters to him. He couldn't decide if this was to her credit as well, or if he should be angry that she would keep something like that from him. Then again, they had stopped writing each other a year ago---at her request---because neither of them had time to keep up a correspondence. That last letter was probably the first time it ever struck him that Amelia was the crown princess of Seyruun, and that her everyday life was completely different in context to that in which he had known her. He finally resigned his suspicions to believe what Lina had told him about the Library . It was an engagement present from the King to his daughter to pressure her into a suitable marriage. This was probably the best time to approach Amelia about the Library , as Zelgadis was pretty sure the King would not consider him "suitable".

Though Seyruun was heavily guarded, he found it no challenge to infiltrate the palace undetected. Of course he would have to come at a time when every prince, noble, and eligible bachelor was at the palace---but he knew they would be, Lina had told him as much. They had no idea he was there---the courtiers didn't---and he liked it that way. But soon he would have to break out of the shadow and make his presence known to the princess if he was to find out anything about the Library . His usual sources for this kind of information had proven to be uncannily inadequate; it seemed as though Lina, her companion Gourry, the King, and the princess were the only people who knew where the Library was. Servants, laborers, petty clerics and other sources of the discreet variety knew of the Library but could only point him towards the odd healing hall or monastery---places too small to house what, from Lina's account, was a vast network of vaults.

The lack of any discreet options was galling. Speaking to the princess in private was impossible during the day and inappropriate (not to mention awkward) at night. The princess, of course, would do anything to help him. She was in love with him, or at least she said she was---which, at the time, both took him by complete surprise and touched him deeply.

But that was a long time ago---five years, actually. She was young and with youth came naivety. Inexperienced to a fault, her innocence was the foundation for all her misspent convictions, which she kept intact despite all she saw and despite her growing up a little bit during all of that time. It almost seemed endearing now, like all things in the past, though it was nearly intolerable then. It was never a question of whether or not he returned any of her feelings, because it wouldn't have changed her mind and Zelgadis decided a long time ago that he wouldn't think about it. Who knew what the princess felt now or if she even felt anything five years later. As it was, he had decided not to think about that, either, and he could always find out when he saw her. He slid the charm back into his cloak and pulled the mask tighter around his face.

He slipped along the back wall of the throne room---for that is where he eventually ended up and correctly guessed where the princess might have been located. It was a large basilica structure with mammoth columns lining the wide central nave separating the main floor from the double aisles flanking it. These columns were convenient to travel by if one wanted to escape notice. He was still unused to such a large crowd. Pressing himself against one of the immense, oddly warm stone supports, he scanned the multitudes, hoping this event required the princess to traverse the room and make small talk with each individual entourage---perhaps he could quietly pull her aside, or even catch her eye without having to announce his presence to the entire court. No such luck.

The princess stood on the main dais, far to the front of the nave while the courtiers came to her. She was clad in very princess-like virginal pink and white---elegant and almost severe. What shocked him was how much older she had become. She gazed at the crowd gracefully, smiled often, and patiently spoke with anyone who requested her attentions. Her face resembled something appropriately regal: placating and slightly bored. He had forgotten that she could be pretty.

He was used to taking it for granted.

She did save him the trouble of fighting the crowd. She had seen him, whispered a few instructions to the chamberlain at her side, and resumed her attentions to the gathering of nobles.

"Sir, the princess bids you come this way," said a voice behind him. The Chamberlain and his assistant then escorted him a good distance away from the official proceedings. She had sent her most competent and trustworthy servants to discreetly attend to him. He was impressed. He hadn't sensed their approach and they were exhaustibly respectful towards him, a complete stranger, hooded, and inside the palace by some questionable means. However, they could've been ushering him to a contingent of armed guardsmen waiting to efficiently deal with the intruder outside of the public eye.

But he was not taken to a prison. Instead, the servants led him to a small sitting room where he was left unhindered and quite alone. Zelgadis had not been particularly worried, but if the situation had been as he irrationally feared, things would have gotten. . .messy. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with. Fortunately, his fears proved unfounded and to his relief, not to mention surprise, the whole thing had not played out into some horribly dramatic scene. The princess, it seemed, had not only learned the royal art of delegation but had mastered the greater craft of expediency. Zelgadis did not know what he expected, but he couldn't tell if he felt a little disappointed, and if he was, he couldn't tell why.

He heard noises in the room next to him and he listened but couldn't tell if it was the princess or what that person might have been saying. He sighed and resigned himself to the task of waiting.

He didn't have to wait very long. The door into the sitting room opened and the princess and her father entered the room. No servants were with them. This level of personal involvement heartened Zelgadis, but he couldn't explain why he might have expected otherwise. After all, he and Amelia had been friends at some point, hadn't they. . . .He stood in deference to their position, but the King motioned for him to sit. Then he and his daughter did so as well. The King of Seyruun beamed at him.

"It's so nice to see one of my daughter's old friends drop by for a visit. Although I must say, I am sorry you came at such a tumultuous time."

Zelgadis found it odd that Amelia had said nothing in all this time. She sat quietly and he could not read her expression. He wondered how much five years could change someone. Then he realized, to his astonishment, that he really didn't know her all that well to begin with.

"If my presence here is an unnecessary distraction, I would understand. My business in Seyruun does not require the importunate involvement of the Royal Family. . . ."

"Nonsense, dear boy! Any friend of Amelia's is welcome to stay in the palace as long as they like. From what my daughter's told me, I've come to understand you might be interested in our Library , and I see no reason we shouldn't do everything we can to make it easier for you to go about your business. I'll have to ask you, of course, if you plan to destroy any public property. In Lina's case, we had requested she secure an inclusive insurance policy. . . ."

"That's not necessary. It is not my intention to destroy any part of your city---accidentally or otherwise," Zelgadis smiled at the King's astute assessment of the sorceress's volatile personality, but he secretly wondered how much Amelia had told her father about him. He knew they were close and it would be uncomfortable conducting a "man-to-man" discussion with the hulking giant of a King should some sort of confrontation occur.

"Good, good. I didn't think you would---but I had to ask. You understand, of course?"

"Of course."

"Ha, ha! It's good to be on the level with each other," the King slapped him on the back good-naturedly---a gesture that would have flattened a lesser man.

"Forgive me," Zelgadis said, clearing his throat, "but about the Library ---I don't want to inconvenience anyone, however I must know when I will have access to it." He wanted to keep on subject, lest they turn to personal matters that could very well change the tone of this meeting from cordial formality to something more embarrassing.

"Oh yes. Of course. You can use the Library at your leisure. It's the least we can do for the considerable service you've rendered to your country. But," and the King looked slightly embarrassed, "I'm afraid I don't know much about this, urm, Library business. Hoom! To be quite honest, I've enjoyed having nothing to do with it. You see, it's been Amelia's project the whole time, what with there being other important matters of state and all, so you'll have to ask her---Amelia?"

The princess rose, unfolding her hands, which had lain still in her lap the whole time. She looked directly at Zelgadis for the first time during this meeting. The effect was unsettling.

"I will need to cast a recognition spell on you so you will have unlimited access. The Library is heavily guarded due to the nature of many of its relics, and you will want to avoid the different levels of armed security, the clerics, and book keeping staff. The spell should also get you beyond the many wizard locks blocking passage to the vaults housing the stronger magics."

It took all of his carefully cultivated self-control not to gawk at her as she said this. It wasn't simply a matter of there being items of such magical potential they needed not only an armed contingency to guard them, but to be locked inside of ensorcelled chambers. It was Amelia, who never broke eye contact with him and spoke in the even, dispassionate tones of someone telling the complete truth. He could not read any hidden meaning in her statement---there was none to find. Just what sort of work had she done for this "Library" ?

"What does this 'recognition spell' involve?"

"It is something Lina and I came across during the early stages of the building process. It merely assigns a magical 'tag' to you that the barriers and monitors we've placed throughout the Library would recognize and allow you unhindered passage. This spell has been cast on only Lina and myself, not because of the danger to whomever it is cast upon, or the level of difficulty in casting it, but as a necessary precaution."

Zelgadis found himself becoming irrationally angry with Amelia. "Doesn't that pose an unnecessary risk? If only two people are allowed into the chambers where the most valuable relics are kept, wouldn't that make you a target if someone with the means and desire for those spells decides to take them by force?"

"It was Lina who insisted we do it this way," said Amelia, undaunted, "besides, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, Zelgadis." He couldn't tell which emotion had colored this statement, but something had given her voice an unqualifiable edge, and Zelgadis had the distinct impression that whatever it was that caused it probably had nothing to do with him.

"It's no use. I've tried reasoning with her---then again there's no reasoning with some women. . ." the King said conspiratorially. The princess rose, quietly (Zelgadis had already associated the faint rustle of cloth with the stone silence of her actions) coughing politely as she did so.

"(Ahem) Daddy?"

"Yes, darling daughter?"

"I believe there are people waiting for us in the banquet hall," and, with the minimalist mannerisms of the truly royal, she had swiftly ended the conversation, leaving the opportunity for neither embarrassment nor opposition from any other in the party.

"Oh yes. Right. Those people. Confounded court functions. . . ." The King grumbled as he rose and lumbered out of the room. The princess stayed behind, and Zelgadis wondered if now he would become part of some humiliating scene.

"I would ask you to join us, but you would probably want to take your meal alone. You will be shown to your rooms and can see the Library tomorrow. It's all been arranged. Are you ready?"

"For dinner?"

"For the recognition spell. I can cast it now if you like, unless you want to wait," she said.

"No, no. Let's get it over with."

Zelgadis watched as the princess whispered into her cupped hands. A blue light had begun to form into a ball between them. She opened her hands and extended them in his direction. The glowing ball floated from them and towards Zelgadis. He felt a slight, electric current wash over his body. Then it was gone.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that is all. You will excuse me now?" But Amelia did not wait for his answer. She, or rather her garments, swished towards the exit. She stopped halfway out the door and turned to look at him. "It's good to see you, Zelgadis." Then, she too was gone.


	2. untitledthe second installment

1Creator's note---.

If you haven't already guessed, I love writing. I love writing for two reasons: I love psychological profiling, and I adore language. These things become very palpable to me in this next chapter.

In chapter two, the story revealed it's tone and pace to me. It also set up it's parameters for any narrative shifts and eccentricities. The story has become it's own living thing and it is allowing me to write it. And at this point, the story wants to be a mystery. Zelgadis needs it to be a mystery, or else he'd lose interest. This is closely tied to his personal quest, but also the reason he could leave it to take up with Lina and the others in the original series. His thirst for knowledge is powered by the same psychological mechanisms that drove his thirst for power. That's the profile, anyhow.

This chapter is about Place. Zelgadis needs to get a sense of his surroundings before he can solve this thing. You readers at home can do this by Googling Bourges Cathedral in France for the Library, and Hagia Sophia in Constantinople for the Palace.

This is also when I introduce the parallel meta-narrative interventions.

Also, the name Eu'Faalda is a play on the name of the wise and faithful horse from the "Goose Girl" fairy tale. The three quotes in this installment are attributed to Ralph Ellison, Machiavelli (both of these have been slightly altered) and G.K. Chesterson, respectively.

_"Once upon a time, there was a princess. She had a father, a mother, and a sister who she loved very much, and they were very happy in their beautiful kingdom. But all was not happy in the kingdom. One day, the mother was killed by dissidents, and the sister ran away. Her father, the prince, could not stop these things from happening, but he did keep the princess from going after her sister. When the princess asked him why they did not follow her, her father said it was because they needed to stay in the kingdom and bring justice to the people who caused the loss of her mother and sister. The princess agreed to stay, because she loved her father and wanted to help him bring justice to the kingdom, too. These things were very true, but I think the princess had begun to wish she were a prince so she could fight for justice just like her father. Her father had told her she could fight for justice as a princess, not as a prince, and she agreed because princes needed swords and she was afraid of them because that was how her mother died. Then her father told her, that because they loved each other they wouldn't keep any secrets between them, and because she loved her father, the princess agreed to keep this promise as well_.. ."

Zelgadis rose early the next day, as he had been accustomed to doing for the past twenty-three years. He hadn't been comfortable with the idea of sleeping in the palace, and this paired with anticipation of seeing the Library the next day made for a prolonged sleepless night before. It wasn't that he expected much from this collection of tomes; in fact he expected the opposite. It was just that it had all been so cloak and dagger from the start. Besides, the sooner he could assess whether or not the Library was worth his time, the sooner he could leave the palace and get a decent night's sleep.

He took stock of his surrounds in the early morning light. He had been quartered in a sizable suite of good upkeep and furnishings; an open balcony facing east (within a peripheral view of the grand terrace, actually), and the bedchamber even joined a separate room for his own private study. He knew this wasn't the best room---it was not that large, nor was it close to the northern wing, where the greater halls were located. He did not waste any time to feel slighted. Even if there had been one of the other rooms vacant (and Zelgadis was beginning to doubt that Amelia would have evicted one of the visiting dignitaries to make room for him), it wouldn't have suited his solitary habits or the nature of his business here. All things considered, this was probably the best room he could have been given.

It was very early in the morning. Indeed, the first light of day had only recently begun to intensify. Zelgadis looked out his windows---they were very large and from his vantage point he could see that it would be much to early for any business that would be going on around the main halls of the palace, much less in his out of the way nook. This reasoning was directly responsible for the hysterical palace employee now running down the corridors who had narrowly escaped being killed by Zelgadis when the unfortunate lackey made the mistake of entering his room unannounced.

Zelgadis cursed his combination of his gross misjudgment of the palace's work-schedule and his own paranoia. He hastily dressed and chased after the disturbed page. If anyone had not been awake at this hour, they soon would be and his business would suddenly become theirs.

Still cursing, he eventually caught up with the screaming boy (he was quite young and he probably had not been on the palace staff for very long---perhaps not for much longer after this morning). The boy had finally stopped, hyperventilating in front of a group of previously engaged chancellors, one of them Zelgadis recognized from the evening before.

Fortunately for him, the chamberlain also recognized Zelgadis, and being quite a different creature from this agitated page, he had deduced what had happened and had already foreseen the potentially bad situation that might now commence. These thoughts took only moments for the chamberlain to process, and in no time he had dismissed the page with a reproachful glance, apologized most humbly to his colleagues, and escorted Zelgadis away before any of them had the chance to speculate charges against this suspicious stranger that had so violently appeared in their midst.

"This way, sir," said the chamberlain, walking briskly while Zelgadis followed suit, relieved, but still a little miffed by the speed at which the situation had been put under control.

"Hansa should have been the one to attend to you this morning," he continued in agitation, which Zelgadis realized hadn't been directed towards him, nor at Hansa, who he assumed was the servant accompanying the chamberlain the previous evening. He almost felt sorry for the other page, who would probably be dealt with by the chamberlain himself later that day. Almost.

The chamberlain sighed and it was possible that he too was thinking about the fate of the inept page. "Unfortunately, Hansa had other duties to attend to. You must forgive me," he said turning to Zelgadis, "but you did choose a most inconvenient time to come by the palace."

"I had not realized," he said, lying a little, but added sincerely, "If I had known how busy everyone would be, I would've waited until another time."

"You're not a fool like that idiot page, so don't act like one. You are a guest of the royal family and as their employees it is our job to serve you, regardless. It's our business to be busy---ah, here we are."

They had stopped in front of a large door that would have been otherwise inconspicuous except for the large sword hung over the doorframe. Zelgadis took a moment to reorient himself before understanding that they were in the western wing of the palace, a little closer to the main halls.

The chamberlain did not enter the chambers beyond it, but rapped against the frame sharply. He then took a step back, the door creaked open, and Amelia stepped out from behind it. Zelgadis saw a strange glow surround her, an effect of the lighting from the room beyond, which appeared to be some sort of study. He didn't give the light a second thought.

"Forgive me, Highness," the chamberlain said while bowing, "the King requests your attendance at breakfast, then there's the brunch at noon, and the chancellors have some documents for your perusal, then a visiting entourage---the one from Baylor, I believe---had requested a riding tour of the city. . ."

Amelia sighed un-emphatically. "I will tell my father that if he wants me at breakfast, then brunch is out of the question, and I will see to the paperwork there, when I join him this morning. As for the afternoon ride, please offer my sincerest apologies to the Baylor emissary, but that would be quite impossible today, perhaps some other time. If Baylor finds this insufficient, I suppose I will find the time to grant their request." She looked at Zelgadis then, and the chamberlain took this as a cue.

"There's also the matter of. . ." But the princess interrupted him with a polite cough.

"It's quite alright. I see exactly what must have happened. Daddy would forget that Hansa had been reassigned today, and indefinitely for the following days. He will be at the breakfast with my father. I will send Hansa to you immediately, when I meet with him. Please draft a memo reminding the King to be more attentive when it comes to dealing with the staff. I will sign it later," she turned to Zelgadis, "There will be a prepared meal waiting for you, so you can start your work in the Library as soon as you like at eat at your convenience. I assume that after this morning's unpleasantries, you will want to see the Library as soon as possible, without any more of these hindrances. I would show you the Library personally, but you'll have to forgive me; I have other business occupying me in the Library and would be of little help to you."

"There is no need. You have already been quite thorough," he said, a little awed at the efficient way with which matters were addressed by the princess and her staff at the palace. He suspected that this was the usual way of things here, and that the situation had been compounded by the presence of all the guests. He was far from insulted, perhaps a little curious about the affairs of Seyruun outside of the Library , but the Library still was at the forefront of his thoughts.

Amelia excused herself and the chamberlain bowed to her retreating figure before ushering Zelgadis in the opposite direction.

"That wasn't the Library ?" he asked the older man.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course it isn't," the chamberlain gently chided. Zelgadis was relieved and not insulted---he didn't really think that was the Library , but he was a creature predisposed to misgivings. After much walking, they stopped in front of another set of doors, and to the surprise of Zelgadis (but evidently not to the chamberlain) the page, Hansa, was already waiting for them there. Unnecessary apologies were made, and the chamberlain left Zelgadis in the capable management of the quiet servant.

The Library was located outside of the palace, but connected to it via an arched concourse. When Hansa led him to an abbey, Zelgadis had to swallow his disappointment. Hansa saw this and allowed an amused grin to spread across his face.

"It's not what you would think, sir," he said wryly. He bobbed his head toward the abbey. "This is one of our healing halls. We also use this site as a hospice for refugees and the poor. A lot of our welfare and charity work is done here." He then led Zelgadis, not to the main entrance, but to a smaller door located to the side.

"My instructions were to show you the least tedious ways into the Library . This leads directly into it. You will want to pay heed to the locking system here." He laid his hand on a carved doorknob, turning it so the runes aligned in a specific arrangement, which he took great pains to make sure Zelgadis had enough time to commit to memory. The latch caught, and they were soon descending a columned incline that led to a larger underground chamber, also connected to other corridors. Zelgadis could tell this was a vast undertaking. But Hansa did not stop here; he continued to walk down one of the connecting halls. He turned to clarify the reason for continuing onward.

"This section is devoted to the healing magics. I do not know what it is you seek, but it might be found in one of the other sections of the Library ."

The Library was, in fact, a network of public buildings and their corresponding subterranean vaults interconnected by a system of underground tunnels. The passage between vaults was wide enough to accommodate heavy traffic, lit by the glowing orbs regularly placed along the walls. Zelgadis had the distinct impression that the lights were aware of their passing.

"Mage lights," said Hansa, "they are placed throughout the lower levels of the Library and at each entrance to monitor the activity within them."

Even with the frequent detours, built out of necessity to circumnavigate pre-existing sewer-works, catacombs, and to preserve the structural integrity of the city above, the passage was easy to travel by. Zelgadis looked down some of the adjoining paths and he saw that many of them remained unfinished. Hansa explained that the Library was, as it had been intended to be, an ever-expanding project. Most of what had been finished housed information instead of merely serving as a means to get from vault to vault. The page would describe, in meticulous detail, the role and content of these chambers as they passed. Zelgadis noticed that, not only were there tables and benches set up for anyone who wished to study any of the text, but there was also ample space set aside to practice casting a given spell.

Finally, they came to a much larger chamber, and the page stopped. The vaulted ceilings were dizzying here, and the space was approximately the same size as the palace's throne room, but that was where the similarities ended. The pillars here were bare of most ornamentation, but in a darker way, the architectural emphasis was as aesthetic as any of the palace's gilded halls. This was the same throughout the Library , but this vault was singular even among its fellow chambers. Hansa waited silently as Zelgadis took all of this in.

"What is this place?" he asked the page, who responded with a grin.

"This is the last section of the Library ---these corridors you see radiating out from the main vault lead to others containing the higher magics. Above us is Seyruun's largest monastic institution, and it is now dedicated to research. With the Library mostly complete, the monks and priests there spend most of their day that is not committed to their ecclesiastic duties curating and re-assimilating all of the works that are here in this Library . The other half runs the educational facilities here. The princess had mandated that Seyruun should provide a school for anyone who wanted to learn. This school provides all levels of education on any subject as part of the mission of this Library . Should I show you how to get into one of the vaults now?"

Zelgadis nodded in assent and silently followed Hansa to a towering set of rune-covered double doors. The page put his hand on the central-most rune and muttered a spell. The marks began to glow, and the light spread to all the engravings scrawled across the doors' surfaces. The doors then opened, and Hansa stood back to make room for Zelgadis to enter.

"Any sorcerer can dispel the locks on any of these doors by placing his hand upon the runes. The enchantments are set to identify the locking spells and counter-spells immediately through physical contact. Feel free to enter this room."

"You will not be accompanying me?" asked Zelgadis.

"I am not authorized to step beyond this point." Zelgadis had forgotten about the recognition spell cast on him the day before, and that even though Hansa was well familiarized with all aspects of the Library , only Lina, Amelia, and Zelgadis had the ability to access all of the Library freely. The significance of Amelia's complete trust had begun to sink in.

"What should I expect when I come in contact with whatever barrier has been placed on this room?" he asked.

"Nothing, I suspect, but I wouldn't know. I have never been compelled to pass through it. I do know that any unauthorized person attempting entry will not be able to. I am under the impression they would experience some particularly nasty effects."

"What kind of 'nasty effects'?" Zelgadis's curiosity was piqued. The page arched his brow, wryly.

"It is different for some of these rooms. Some barriers issue the intruder an electric shock of variable intensities. This was the sorceress, Lina Inverse's doing, as I understand it. But most barriers would have the same effect as one would have running into a stone wall. The princess insisted upon a more. . .humane. . .deterrent, but I'm sure it would be just as unpleasant an experience."

Zelgadis chuckled at this; it would be characteristic of Lina to resort to such tactics in order to dissuade any stupidly ambitious sorcerer. He imagined that she would get a laugh any time someone egregiously underestimated her forethought.

He could sense the presence of very strong magic pervading throughout the room. Suspiciously, he drew his breath uncertain of what effect he himself might encounter. He did not trust Lina to leave anyone unaffected; if anything but to remind him just who and what he was dealing with. Breathing on hold, he stepped inside.

For a brief moment he felt the dull pulse of an electrical current pass through him, and when he looked at his hands, a silvery light danced along the outlines of his hands. But both quickly subsided, the faint light had all but completely faded away. He let out the breath that he had been holding in, relieved that, whatever it was, it was over. It wasn't what he expected---he didn't know what to expect---but it wasn't altogether pleasant either. Like the mage lights spread throughout the entire Library , he felt slightly oppressed by the nagging impression that he was being closely watched. It would take some getting used to.

Satisfied, he turned and left the chamber through the entrance which he had come, not bothering to examine the object encased in the glass pillar at the far end of the room.

"Yes, I see," he said, "this would be a very effective spell indeed, and judging from the strength of the magical presence inside, the protection spell is probably worth the time spent finding it." Zelgadis did not have to explain that the object inside was not anything he would be looking for, the page had already known and nodded quietly in his understanding. This had been meant to be no more than a demonstration of the Library 's mechanisms. The heavy doors closed on their own accord as Hansa led his charge towards a gentle incline that would lead them to the monastery above.

The continued their ascent until they had reached the second floor, where Zelgadis found himself being ushered along the inner terrace that surrounded a lush central green. The public works of Seyruun all had striking gardens and this one was no exception; its immaculately kept greenery seemingly endless save for a lone white statue casting soft shadows in the receding afternoon light. He was a little miffed at how quickly the time had passed underground, without any natural light to indicate the hour. Hansa stopped walking to grant Zelgadis the small respite of leaning against the rail, silently accommodating for the weariness Zelgadis was too proud to admit to feeling and the servant was too disciplined to mention.

"The mage lights dim and intensify on the hour with the corresponding time of day, and at night they burn the same but in shades of blue," said Hansa, in response to his unasked question, " It was thought that a system that relied on sonic implements to keep the time would require excessive maintenance, besides there being the possibility of the noise interfering with the spells inside. The mage lights maintain themselves and are surprisingly easy to adjust to. This is why I had forgotten to tell you of this function. Please forgive me." At this, the page looked undeservedly sheepish. Zelgadis, feeling more than a little guilty, answered as quickly as he could.

"My pardon is unnecessary, you have been more than obliging. I should have suspected that as much had been accounted for an undertaking so large as this," he said, implicating the entire Library with an inclusive, abstract gesture.

"My respects sir, but it is necessary. I have failed some part of my duties, and therefore have betrayed the princess's trust in me," Hansa said earnestly. Zelgadis would have laughed this away if he had not seen the acute sincerity and subconscious reproach so fixed within the servant's gaze. He had no choice but to intone his otherwise tacit forgiveness.

Apparently satisfied, the page continued on, as if none of this had occurred, "You will, of course, be given a map of the Library which will explain some of the features more in depth."

Zelgadis did not waste his breath wondering how much more "in depth" this map would be. Instead he asked, "This map, is it anything like the 'recognition spell' that had been cast on me? Should I be concerned about any sensitive information within it that only a limited number of people should have access to?"

"Why no, everyone can get access to this map. They are given a copy upon arrival. However, most of the Library 's visitors are accompanied by a monk who has been assigned to their exclusive service, therefore they find no need for the map," Hansa registered the disappointment Zelgadis was unaware he felt.

"You are a particularly important visitor, sir. An ordinary visitor would not have one of the palace staff attend to them. I suspect the princess would have assigned herself the same tasks that I now humbly administer, if she had not been pressed in so many matters of State. It is in fact, an honor to serve you," he said.

"I assume this is all being said for my benefit, lest you should be disappointed at my feeling slighted," Zelgadis remarked sardonically.

"I am but your humble servant, sir, that is not for me to assume," said the clever aide.

"Spoken like a true diplomat. Touché. You will go far in the service of your State, 'but'?"

"However, my superior, Eu'Faalda, would have expected more from you, if such a thing were the case."

"The chamberlain, am I correct? I would expect as much from him."

"He is a wise and venerable man who has served his State for many years. In his age, he takes liberties unthinkable for any lesser servant, which he is allowed in deference to his years and experience. He apparently has high expectations of you." Zelgadis laughed at this, understanding precisely what sort of man the chamberlain was. Then his tone became serious.

"So just what has Amelia told you about me?" For a moment he felt marked by the cuff he had kept hidden on his person. He felt exposed, and he hated it. He was almost resentful of Amelia's regard.

"As Eu'Faalda would put it, 'it is not for a Prince to share his affairs with his subjects, it is for him to keep the distance between underling and master lest the lesser wrongly presumes equality'. I am her grateful servant, sir. I would want to know nothing except how to better serve Her Eminence." Almost. Instead of being embarrassed, as he expected, every consideration had been made to assure the opposite. He was tempted to feel disappointed.

"Thus you compliantly attend to my needs."

"I am her humble servant and yours," Hansa bowed, unsarcastically.

"Then, with respect, I will no further keep you from your good work," and Zelgadis's returning bow was just as respectful, even with its slightly caustic affect. Hansa smiled briefly, as if to acknowledge the innocuous jest. Then, just as before, he employed his uncanny skill at continuing as though the previous conversation had never taken place.

He nodded towards the half of the monastery on the other side of the common green. "That side is where our educational facilities can be found, along with it the monastic dormitories and living quarters---on this side, here, is the main temple for performing spiritual rites," He said, indicating an adjacent annex. He then motioned towards a door they had passed not moments ago. Zelgadis remembered passing this room and seeing, through large, leaded windows, a swarm of monks consumed by clerical tasks in a room roughly the size of a public dining hall, similarly furnished with elongated benches and wide tables.

"This is one of the rooms where all of the Library 's investigation and curative work is carried out. If you should want, I am authorized to oversee a collection of monks who will work solely at your disposal. If the nature of your search is a sensitive matter, we can arrange it so that no one will know your motives without hindering the research."

"Do not trouble yourself, that will not be necessary."

"It would be for the purpose of convenience. It's of no trouble at all, sir."

"It's been noted, but I that will not be required."

"If you distrust our methods of security, I can assure you that there would be no cause for concern. But if the services of so many will cause your unease, then perhaps only I---"

"You have done enough already, a appreciate your time. I relieve you of your service. Please return to your regular duties." The page looked crushed.

"Of course, you are correct. I shall take my leave of you now," he bowed deeply, and made for a quiet retreat. Zelgadis liked the clever, competent young man, and was impressed by his unconscious dignity. He had not meant to insult the page, nor depreciate his service when it was deserving of praise. In his mind, it would be the least he could do to offer his explanation. He called after him, and Hansa stopped and stood in respectful wait, as it was in his nature to comply.

"You do not owe me an explanation. Only the ill-trained ask the reason for their dismissal."

"This has nothing to do with any mistake you didn't make, you have been irreproachable," he began, "As you have probably noticed, I am not the most. . .social. . .of people."

"It is not for me to judge, sir, and my position requires me to dissuade you from divulging any information that would encourage that level of familiarity between us, but," Hansa added, "If it is your intention to reveal some personal aspect of yourself, might I suggest that we, at least for the time being, dispense with the formalities associated with our respective roles."

"Agreed," and Zelgadis was relieved, the arrangement had long begun to be tedious.

"I will admit to being curious about you as a person," Hansa reluctantly confessed. Zelgadis smiled at this, knowing full well why this was, on so many levels, so.

"No doubt you have been kept in the dark about me," he said, and then went on to explain the exact nature of his quest, while intentionally leaving out the details that related to Amelia. He watched the page carefully as he said this, waiting to weigh his character against his reaction. Hansa's neutral expression came as no surprise.

"May I speak candidly sir?"

"Go ahead," said Zelgadis, who knew that even though it was the page's suggestion that he be able to do so, he would not easily go against his nature. Hansa looked at him thoughtfully.

"You never struck me as a particularly vain man, sir." This statement took Zelgadis by complete surprise.

"Well obviously not, it has very little to do with vanity," he countered.

"I meant no disrespect sir. I had previously assumed that this was your natural form, and that assumption had no influence on my perception of your character, and now that I know the truth, little of that opinion is changed. I just do not understand why someone would go to such lengths to correct something so insignificant. I have always believed in something Eu'Faalda once said to me: 'no man should allow his circumstances cloud his vision of himself as a man'."

"I don't understand, I know who I am as a man; how is my concern insignificant?"

"Have you not incredible power at your disposal? Have you not been able to achieve great things with that power? Have you not vanquished your enemy who inflicted this form upon you? Has there been anything denied to you; is there anything that you would have if you had remained in your original form that you could not have in this form?"

"I was human, Hansa. That was stolen from me. My humanity is denied to me. Isn't that enough?"

"You have already indicated that you have very little social inclination, and it is my impression that your reticence is equally a matter of preference independent of necessity. But haven't you already fulfilled your need for human companionship? Have you not reciprocated relationships with loyal and powerful friends? Did they become your friends out of fear or out of respect? In these ways, is it not possible that one form has either more or less of an advantage that the other? Perhaps you will find that you have limited yourself as a result of your attempts to forge your existence in one form over the other. It was not my intention to sway or attack any of your beliefs. However, as a cleric by first vocation, I feel compelled to remind you that there is a choice, and that two forms do not have to be mutually exclusive. But my opinion is of little significance beyond what you have already assessed for yourself. It is your choice, ultimately, and if it is so important, then yes, that is enough."

It had never occurred to Zelgadis that this intelligent, soft-spoken servant at one time might have been a scholar of the spiritual arts, but it explained the experience and position he had acquired far beyond the abilities of his years (he was, in fact, roughly around the same age as he, if not a few years younger), and his extensive knowledge of the Library and its magic. His respect for Hansa increased dramatically. He did not want to dwell upon his advice, though, and since the page had left it open for his complete disregard, he decided to save that debate for some other day.

"Yes, it is that, and I have made my choice," he said after a while, and smiled at the former monk.

"Then I will ask you to permit me to help you," he replied, "your knowledge of the Library is meager in comparison to mine, and that knowledge will be of great value to you in regards to your quest. Furthermore, you need not fear undo exposure, since you have already voluntarily revealed to me your motives."

"And if today was any indication of the value of your service, I would be a fool, indeed, to dismiss you."

"That is your decision, sir."

"But at your suggestion, 'sir', most appropriate to my cause and welcome, lest I abandon my original argument."

"Of course, sir. Then might I also suggest we take our leave; it has become very late."

"Well put and well received, 'sir', lead the way and I will follow," and the two of them began the trek back to the palace. In such a good humor, Zelgadis threw out what was he thought was a harmless remark.

"One last thing," he said, "what was that statue in the center of the square?"

"That was the Queen, to who's memory this educational facility is dedicated. Seeing the statue here always reminds me of her epitaph. It reads 'Children are innocent and love Justice, while most of us are wicked and naturally prefer Mercy'." That was all Zelgadis thought about the matter, and Hansa continued delineating that evening's menu as if nothing had been said.


	3. third instalment

1Creator's note---

If the previous chapter was about Place, then this one is about Time.

From the moment I started typing this, I knew the beginning of this chapter would be the biggest risk of the whole story. The whole thing was supposed to be in footnotes—I modeled it after an award-winning short story I had been reading called "The Depressed Person". The source impressed me so much: I had never read something that was both scathing and sympathetic so congruently. It was the most ambitious segment of the narrative.

It doesn't work for the story. There. I've admitted it. It belongs to something else, entirely. However, I still believe it works for Zelgadis. He's not OCD. His compulsion is driven by his need to apply a logic system to whatever he encounters in order to avoid the chaos of both his external and internal world. His obsession with power never disappeared, it merely transformed to mean power over himself. It is a last-ditch effort to grapple with control issues—he is at a developmental crossroads, and having been through some of those myself, they are frightening. Besides, he can't deal with his relationship to Amelia until he deals with his relationship to himself.

People either "get" this section, or they don't—and that's my fault. If I were a more mature writer I would have done it with a lot more finesse. Flawed as it is, I still think it's funny.

This section is also about contextuality. Without context, I can't get to the sexy bits, which is why we're all reading this anyway.

I guess the end justifies the means, which is ironic because I stuffed this chapter full of Machiavelli quotes.

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Of course the Banquet was spectacular, the product of the Seyruunian-state's vast resources; a prolific sea-port based economy—specifically that which specialized in the frequent successful extraction of it's neighboring sea's bounties, supplemented by Seyruun's extensive auxiliary agricultural yields from its surrounding peasantry (fertile indeed due to the city's preternaturally fortuitous geographical establishment), also supplemented by a thriving system of inter-kingdom trade, facilitated further by its advantageous sea-port status (Seyruun was, at least, one of the most successful city-states of its respected place and time, and probably (in respect to its rudimental parliamentary government and complex bureaucratic rule, existing in an apparently non-conflicting state with the traditional monarchy system of the era, and in conjunction to the cultural/political/economic progressiveness of said government and its constituencies (all beneficiaries of a high standard of living due, again, to its auspicious geographic positioning)) was, in its body politic, the closest to a modern republican polis, within its feudalistic, meta-medieval context). Zelgadis, of course, did not engage in the classical pageantry that was the Banquet, but rather, partook of his supper in the preferred solitude of his private guest apartments. This did not detract from its excellence.

And so, with his accommodations pre-arranged as such, he was at his leisure to pass his residence at the palace without compromising his own personal habits, and to continue doing so, with the inherent addition of enjoying the many comforts his Seyruunian environs had to offer, indefinitely, in accordance to his established routine, as his purposes there might require. Thus, for a fortnight, his time passed uneventfully.

Zelgadis was particularly proud of the schedule he had developed over the strange years; a period of time that would, in any other opinion, be deemed as tumultuous and intrusive to a creature so inclined to compulsive regularity as he. Ironically, it was this fixedness of habit that allowed him to cope with his otherwise unfortunate circumstances.

He would rise each morning with the first grayish light of pre-dawn, spend twenty minutes of observed meditation reflecting on the interpretive meaning of his dreams prior to waking, the pre-determined tasks before him, his long-term personal/ spiritual goals, their holistic meaning to history and the rest of the universe, his short-term goals, the meaning of life, and then finally digressing from polymorphic abstract consciousness into ambient, Zen-like nothingness.

He would then devote three-quarters of an hour to a strict regimen of physical training (sometimes incorporating both magical and non-magical exercises in sorcery and sword-technique) before addressing the matter of breakfast (he would arrange his food-stuffs in order of nutritional value and their respective categories and sub-categories (he had already indicated to the staff his preference for foods rich in mineral and vitamin content, high in proteins and essential fiber, and low in fat, carbohydridic, and caloric value (none of the servants ever actually entered his apartments—this, of course, was due to his inherent distrust of strangers and private habits. His meals were simply left on a tray outside his door, and they were taken from the same location when he was through; he oversaw the upkeep of his chambers himself which was not at all difficult, being a man of fastidious neatness—the palace hire made no protest, having been instructed that this would be so, and possibly because they, too, feared the stranger, being superstitious in the nature of common folk, and the arrangement was a graceful means of avoiding him without risking insult to the royal guest))) which would take up no more than ten minutes, and then another ten to partake of his morning tea ( 2.5 cups of an aromatic, unsweetened, herbal energy blend) before proceeding with his morning toilette ( an exact, deliberate affair; he was a man of impeccable hygienic practices) which would consume him for the remainder of the three hour morning-process, save for the five minutes he allotted himself for gathering the necessary items for that day's activities—always pre-collected and located in the same niche relegated to house them for the purpose of convenience—and met his dedicated and exclusive palace aide, Hansa, who would invariably be waiting and ready just outside the entrance to his suite, so that his day's activities would begin at the hour conventionally recognized s the waking period for an ordinarily early-rising person of Zelgadis's equal, non-service-oriented status.

The rest of the day was spent performing pre-determined tasks, breaking for a light luncheon (pre-prepared and again followed by tea, with which he also took some time, using it to reflect on what had been and what needed to be accomplished for the day, and what, logically, would be adjunctly needed to accomplish these things presently, and in the near future, discussing this, then, with his attentive and compliant personal who would then make any suggestions in case he, Zelgadis, might need to modify any of his previous notations). He would then see to these things, acknowledging a period of time that may or may not be necessary for the expedient handling of any undo events, catastrophes, unpredicted eventuality, or the involvement with additional business any excess time left him free to pursue (this allotment of time was now modified to accommodate further Library investigation or follow up investigation, having been previously allotted to his past adventuring (with its implicit spontaneity)).

It would be early evening now, and Zelgadis would again re-convene with his servant to discuss that day's business and proposed future business (the servant would then make the necessary arrangements for this), before retiring to his chambers. Here, he would again depose himself to an hour of physical exercises before partaking of his evening meal (complying with all previously mentioned requirements), perhaps indulging in a non-stimulant tea, or the occasional flagon of fine vintage Seyruunian wine, or the rare quality malt beverage, before seeing to his evening toilette. When this was done, he had three hours before his self-imposed curfew, designed to facilitate six hours of REM cycle sleep before he had to wake for the next day. In this time he could then meditate on the day's events, make any necessary adjustments to his short and long-term plans, digress into more abstract/intellectual pursuits, exploring some of them on a more creative level he deemed integral to his personal mental/spiritual/artistic well-being (he read and wrote voraciously, sometimes indulging in musical activities—a particular hobby of his (he wrote many songs and ballads, of which he felt, a little embarrassingly, sophomoric and self-gratifying) that he would have more time to pursue had he not otherwise been consumed by his importunate fate).

He had adhered to more or less the same agenda for most of his adult life (a period of protracted maturity that began upon his blighting transformation) and would continue to do so throughout the course of his stay within Seyruun's walled interiors. Of course he allowed for the occasional deviation . The initial Library tour, was one, obviously, and the impending likely event that some external palace function could and would conflict with his personal agenda, especially with such larger circumstances proceeding within the palace itself that paralleled his non-inclusive objectives.

Fortunately, affairs within the palace itself regulated themselves with the precision of clockwork—the powers-to-be exhibiting laudable administrative proficiency. Every consideration had been addressed to accommodate his specific needs and purposes without interference, and the best aide the palace could provide had been assigned to him, perhaps at the inconvenience of the palace's operative machine (or perhaps not; Zelgadis suspected that he was a rather small affair in comparison to all that was going on, and that while Hansa could indeed do the job of four lesser pages, why assign four servants to a task that one could handle when it was obvious that four would be more needed elsewhere?).

The potential worth of Hansa's service alone exceeded Zelgadis's wildest expectations. The page never ceased to impress him. Hansa uncannily seemed to anticipate, and attend to, the ever-changing needs of his assigned person, even before Zelgadis himself could identify those needs.

Hansa was a small young man, diminunized further by the clerical uniform he wore, modified and adorned according to his elevated rank among the other, less capable, palace servants. One would ordinarily be tempted to overlook such a youth, or even prematurely write him off as a sickly, bookish adolescent finally within his element as a petty clerical cog fulfilling some nominal role in the hulking machine of Seyruun's bureaucracy.

Such an observation would be a discredit to both the young man and the observer. Hansa was a man of extraordinary talent and rare intelligence, a great scholar of extensive ecclesiastic tutelage and possessed of an expansive magical, spiritual, and political knowledge, the venerable chamberlain Eu'Falaada, and now, unintentionally, friend to the unsociable, slightly older Zelgadis. This friendship, while reciprocated, was not outwardly encouraged by Hansa himself. He never spoke more than what was necessary, and certainly not on the same candid level as he did that first day on the monastic walk. He silently discouraged any probe into his own pat (which Zelgadis suspected had nothing to do with any sensitivity on the subject, but rather a disinclination to investigate something of such little importance), or any talk about his own personal relations, beyond his fondness to and complete loyalty to his mentor, Eu'falaada. This irrationally frustrated Zelgadis, who could not fathom why such a talented man would, as Hansa had, given up his former life (where he would probably be well on his way to becoming a high priest) to one of unconditional servitude to his State; a life of hearing without hearing, of being unseen, and when seen, immediately forgotten. Perhaps Hansa recognized that this was, perhaps, a common bond that lent itself to their affinity for one another, or, equally, recognized that the reason they had been so well suited to each other did not really matter. On some unconscious level, Zelgadis probably saw this, too.

All of this, of course, was owed to the fantastic administrative designs of Seyruun's Princess, Amelia Will-Telsa de Seyruun, who had been conspicuously absent in the passing weeks. Not truly absent—she was always within the vicinity of the Palace and its functions—if Zelgadis were inclined, he did not doubt he would be granted audience when ever, and for however long he requested it. But neither of them requested the company of the other; the princess was apparently very busy (therefore, any avoidance on her part was a moot point—this inexplicably vexed Zelgadis) and he was very busy (with no reason to contrive to be so in order to avoid her, which also inexplicably vexed him). Gradually, within the next week, Zelgadis came to the startling revelation that he was BORED, and had perhaps been so since long before entering Seyruun.

There was no reason for him to be: the both the palace and the city were in a constant state of flux, the Library immense in size and mystery. Yet, as he entangled himself with its intrigues, he found himself pursuing its other curiosities that had nothing to do with his condition, naturally, resulting in small deviations from his schedule. These, in turn, became larger and larger, and thus Zelgadis found himself adhering to very little of his schedule at all. This led him to the conclusion that either his quest or his schedule was the source of his discontent, eventually leading him to conclude that it was himself (!) that he found so boring.

This realization was a source of much disturbance, and only served to heighten his growing displeasure.

Such was apparent this one annoyingly uneventful afternoon. Having sent Hansa off to perform some task (he no longer cared what; this day he had devoted himself to ponder over his irrational malaise in an attempt to discover (or invent) a cause outside of himself, its solution, and get on with the rest of his life), he was left to himself. He conveniently found an isolated alcove in the garden square of the building situated above one of the larger Library vaults, well-suited to his depressing missives since, no longer able to distract himself with a nagging question concerning the rationality of containing volatile magics beneath important Seyruunian landmarks before learning that many of the vaults containing the larger, more dangerous magics weren't physically beneath the city proper, but located in some congruent dimensional reality (a trick, as a gift, learned from the Monster race, who were responsible for the endowment of many of the Library's magics—the answer supplied, unsolicited, by Hansa, which in hindsight, now seemed quite an obvious solution), he had nothing better to think about. Preoccupied with dark thoughts (and their implicit affront of his person), he almost missed overhearing an exchange within his unintentional vicinity.

Curious, he presumed to eavesdrop further and recognized the voices of the princess and what he assumed could only be her advisors. Never once departing from the proper administrative rhetoric and decorum, only an ear trained and familiarized with erudite knowledge of social theory and political philosophy (such as he, himself was) would be able to discern the progressively heated turn of their dialogue.

"It is not very flattering, Your Grace."

"But it is not my wish to be flattered, sir. Besides, in defending against flattery, one runs the further risk of incurring contempt. For there is no way to protect yourself from flattery except by letting men know you will not be offended at being told the truth. But when anyone can you the truth, you will not have much respect. It holds, then, that the only option is to surround yourself with a council of worthy men and only they be allowed to tell the truth, but only on those points where the Prince asks for it, not on others, and this is one of those others."

"A Prince ought to proceed cautiously, moderating his conduct with prudence and humanity, allowing neither overconfidence to make him careless, nor excess suspicion to make him intolerable."

"I wholly doubt that there is any in this kingdom with any missives as to my conduct or reputation, both of which I am loved for, that you here gathered have all witnessed over the years. My Reputation is solid in the eyes of the public, and that this would cause that opinion to waver is of negligible consequence considering our purposes here. Many hold that a shrewd Prince will, if he can, subtly encourage some enmity to himself, so that by overcoming it he can augment his own reputation."

"A Prince may not have all the admirable qualities, but it is very necessary that he should seem to have them. While this evokes several qualities that are not…un-admirable…it would be wise to keep in mind that this might not evoke qualities for which you wish to be admired for."

"Since it is impossible to have and exercise them all, because the conditions of human life simply do not allow it, a prince must avoid the public disgrace of those vices that would lose him the State. If he possibly can, he should also guard against vices that will not lose him the State."

"And by this argument it also holds that a Prince should not be too worried about incurring blame for any vice without which he would find it hard to save his State. For if you look at matters carefully, you will see that something resembling virtue, if you follow it, may be your ruin, while something else resembling vice will lead, if you follow it, to your security and well-being."

"I am not at all sure as to what this will do to ensure your well-being, Majesty—as it is, your reluctance to take definitive action has already caused unrest among the delegates, and even amongst the people themselves. Your recent good works will not be enough to sustain them, they are impatient for a decision on this, while you seem to be sending mixed messages, especially where your virtue is concerned."

"The problem is not whether your actions bespeak deceit—that you have only pretended to be of virtuous character, but whether or not you are willing to take action to ensure the security of the kingdom. A Prince will also be well thought of when he is a true friend or an honest enemy, that is, without any hedging, he takes a stand for one side against another. It is always better to do this than to stand on one's neutrality; because if two of your powerful neighbors come to blows, they are either such people that you have to fear the winner, or they are not. Stated simply, this recent change is simply not committal enough; you appear capricious and deliberately elusive. It is one thing to ensure Seyruun's legacy as the capital of white magic with a Library, and quite another if this action merely appears as if you are stalling."

"And in keeping with consistency, would it not be better to solidify the image already engrained in the public eye, than to risk taking an action that would cast doubt upon the integrity of that opinion?"

"I am doing nothing other than being what I am. A ruling entity known for upholding justice through liberalism does not mean that my recent action is its opposite to be excluded from that identity. I refuse to accept that this is so, that the State's head cannot be faceted and remain consistent of principle and image—it is not the same, and I despise inconsistency, and revoking a decision just because it defies public opinion is weak and unworthy to rule. What makes a Prince contemptible is being considered changeable, trifling, effeminate, cowardly, or indecisive; he should avoid this and make sure that his actions bespeak greatness, courage, seriousness of purpose, and strength…"

"And there is such a difference between the way we really live and the way we ought to live that the man who neglects the real to study the ideal will learn how to accomplish his ruin, not his salvation."

"Thus he has to have a mind ready to shift as the winds of fortune and the varying circumstances of life may dictate."

"Any man who tries to be good all the time is bound to come to ruin among the great number who are not good. Hence a Prince who wants to keep his authority must learn how not to be good, and use that knowledge, or refrain from using it, as necessity requires. But with this, consistency, too, is most important."

"Keep in mind, Majesty, that men in general judge more by the sense of sight than by the sense of touch, because everyone can see but only few can test by feeling. Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are; and those few do not dare take a stand against the general opinion, supported by the majesty of government."

"A Prince, therefore, should win victories and uphold his State; his methods will always be considered worthy."

Under such strange circumstances, Amelia had suddenly and conveniently (one would at first suspect) reappeared in his life.

It was not a calculated even—not as if, for example, it had been some contrived occasion where he (Zelgadis) had removed a certain text from its Library shelf only to find her (Amelia) on the exact opposite side reaching for the same text, resulting in an "accidental" meeting. Neither the princess, nor her attendants had any previous knowledge that he would be there at that exact moment (and, contrariwise, nor had Zelgadis known she would be there), and had not, in fact, noticed his presence at all, remaining unaware of his unintended voyeurism. The sighting itself was unsentimental and very brief (the stone bench where he had been situated was completely surrounded by neatly pruned cypresses and great marble urns of cascading perennials), thus, he only saw her advancing profile through the closest sliver clear of foliage; a narrow field of vision and a banal narrative conceit, however, remaining, in this happenstance, a unique tableaux. From his limited vantage, he then saw that their entire overheard discourse had to do with nothing more concerning the State than the seemingly trivial matter (his assumption was to be immediately revised; apparently, he would learn, this was a subject of apparently much concern to the State) of the Princess's dress.

Not that the design or cut was in any way improprietious. The barred shoulders were compensated for with the regal drape of her mantle, and except for this, the rest of her frame was fully encapsulated in tastefully close-fitting cloth, the demure neckline still accentuated the immodest curve of her woman's breasts—but any garment, save a boys squarish tunic, would have done the same. No, it was the color of the dress that caused such alarm: an uncharacteristically brilliant crimson (itself another banality, but only such because of its proven effectiveness). The soft flutter of cloth stopped within the frame of his view, and Amelia turned to her council, favoring each an authoritative glance in turn, excluding none (including Eu'faalda, who numbered among them) with the weight of its measure.

"The tern 'should' is never used when addressing a Prince. The Prince is the State, I am the State, and, as such, am married to the State. If you, in compliance to my father's wishes, insist on marrying me to someone other than the State, then perhaps you would be more successful if you had me dressed as something other than a nun."

The fire of this statement, its willfulness, reminded Zelgadis of Amelia's former self, someone, it now seemed, from a time so long ago. It was arresting and beautiful in its purity, stirring a wealth of feeling from some unknown source within him; he was moved. So, too, were the others who now quaked beneath its emotional weight (what was it? Annoyance? Disgust? Indignance? Scorn? Wrath?).

Eu'faalda, the wisest and most familiar with the princess, among them, was the only one to meet her stony eye, and for the briefest moment, Zelgadis saw an understanding pass unspoken between them. Then he sympathetically shook his wizened head, perhaps embarrassed for his peers and himself, and met her eyes again.

"But you, madam, are not a Prince," he said without embellishment. To this, Amelia blanched—Zelgadis had never seen the look that passed her eyes—before those eyes dulled and her face once again assumed a mask of impassivity she now constantly wore. She was, first and foremost, a royal entity, and Zelgadis knew of her inherent political ability, being observant enough to identify this quality in her years before when there was the rare occasion of seeing her immersed in this particular element (this he also believed was an admirable trait—these seemed so few at the time, but now it struck him that this was because any occasion of seeing her in this context was so rare then, as opposed to now), yet, for some reason, this also seemed inexplicably sad.

"You are, of course, right," she said finally, "you are ALL right. I am Amelia Will telsa, Princess of Seyruun. How fortunate that I, the State---how fortunate are ALL—that there are such jurisprudent council at our employ." She bowed before graciously excusing herself to attend a small party of suitors that had just now begun to assemble in the garden enclave. Deep within the recesses of his person, Zelgadis felt a small object become impossibly heavy. He watched he disappear again, only hearing her quickly and gracefully receive them, as her previous company, too, dissolved to their own unknown tasks.

The pang of emotion subsided in him, and with it the burgeoning weight, before Hansa, having completed his superfluous errand, rejoined him.

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In the naturalistic sense of things, it came as no surprise that the consequence of this was the conversation between himself and Hansa the next day. Zelgadis, disinterested in the dry interchange of that day's Library findings, or rather, the lack of any, was somewhat embarrassed to admit to his preoccupation when his aide, concerned of his charge's displeasure in their lack of results, made unnecessary apologies for such. Not wishing to insult the diligence of his servant, Zelgadis found himself compelled to confession, during which Hansa listened quietly until he was done (as it turned out, there was surprisingly little to little to say about it, save for his curiosity concerning Amelia's current situation). Upon its conclusion, the page, who had never spoken so much since their first meet, offered a startling amount of insight on the subject.

"You and the Princess knew each other adventuring, yes?" he asked.

"Yes," said Zelgadis.

"And she never mentioned anything about her personal life in that time?"

"Well, not really," he admitted sheepishly, "I remember her telling us a little bit, but there were other things going on at the time, so I didn't make much of an effort to take any significant note of those things beyond a limited awareness. Most of the time, the rest of us just assumed that the personality she projected was all there was to it." He omitted her confession of her feelings for him in the last hours of their final adventure, and Zelgadis hoped that Hansa wouldn't notice this, as it was his profound ability to notice such things. If he did, he made not indication of it in his next statement, which offered only marginal relief to Zelgadis.

"No doubt you were all very busy and it never occurred to anyone to ask," Hansa said, understanding. He smiled, which made Zelgadis grimace, and the page registered this and shook his head.

"It is no fault of yours of your companions. To a certain extent, you were all correct in your assessment. She was and still is very much the person she appeared then, and it was not in anyway deceitful of her to want to appear so. Very few people, indeed, know what a private person she has always been. It is only more apparent now because of the mounting issues and responsibilities of these times sometimes overlap these personal issues now that she is no longer of an age where she can distract herself with adventures outside of her duties to the State. Do not misinterpret this—she was always aware of these things, and she wouldn't have taken on the added responsibilities of the Library project if she had ever despaired over her circumstances. She always felt as if her concerns were of less importance than those of the people surrounding her. She is a princess, and such is the nature of that role."

"You seem to know her quite well…"

"And you are curious as to how I became so familiar with her, given the unlikeliness of such a thing," he finished for him. Zelgadis nodded and his companion smiled again.

"I will remind you that I have always been her servant and never held any pretense to being anything more. Our roles are such that I understand my unreservedness of this. But if you would know so much, I have known the Princess since childhood, when I was taken as an orphan to this great monastery to study the ways of my order. I met her here; we studied under the same priest—you remember that she had been a shrine maiden before her administrative duties required her full devotion. She had sought out my company, perhaps seeing that we were the same age, and since the disappearance of her elder sister along with the isolation of her position, I was a convenient means of replacing her otherwise absent playmates," Hansa observed Zelgadis's reaction to this before continuing,

"Do not misunderstand. She was always aware of our respective roles and knew that, as a servant, I couldn't refuse. We both knew that friendship had little to do with the arrangement, and that it was status and convenience that made it possible for any reason. She might have truly wanted to be my friend, but knew that this would bear restriction in the end. It would be considered improper, you see. So it became something innocuous—how couldn't it be? She was, we both were, very young after all, and the ability to bully a small boy, one without the option to refuse, into playing at justice avengers and standing as a target for practicing spells is too good an opportunity for any child to ignore. By her nature, she was incapable of any malevolent intentions or abuse of her status towards me—and I was too aware of status to let that happen. She never demanded that I played the part of the romantic prince who would rescue the princess from the evil something or other; the way children do at that age. If anything, she was the one doing the rescuing, and I was the one who needed it in our games—the odd monk, guard, or palace drudge usually was the evil something or other in our games, and there was always a lot of pretend fuss over who would play what, but those games were always the same."

"But that still does not paint an accurate portrait of what actually happened. We did like each other, despite our roles. She was and still is possessed of a great strength of will, an infectious innocence of mind, and that rare quality of beauty. I knew better, but as an orphan boy of low status, I was flattered by the extent of her interest in me. We grew apart as we grew up, of course. The pressures of her office, you understand, became greater with age, and I, of course, had my own studies and vows to my order. But she never forgot me; it was her influence that brought me into my position, and by her introduction I became Eu'faalda's acolyte. If things had been different, I would go so far as to say we might have been friends."

"This is how I know her, but it offers no insight into your question of her demeanor," he continued, "Unfortunately, I can offer little more than what is publicly known about the Seyruun Royal history, most of which, I am sad to say, is unfortunate. The Royal family, though the current administration has been one of the greatest reigns since the kingdom's founding, has always been internally unstable, especially concerning the issue of succession"

"Yes," said Zelgadis, "I was here when her cousin attempted to betray Amelia and her father, I have also been told by Lina Inverse, during our association, that she had also played an intervening role when the king's brother attempted to assassinate him, which was how we all became associated with Seyruun early in our adventures. I just recently learned of what became of her sister and mother at our first meet. I can see how all of that could affect her, and I can also see that in light of experiencing such personal tragedy and all of the political ramifications in respect to this and its effect on Seyruun, the recent events involved with the process of her engagement would be of great concern. I would assume that neither the King, nor Amelia would want to take any chances," he reflected.

"You are correct in your assessments, which also explain much of what has been going on here at the palace during your visit. Since you are a visitor here, and not familiar with the local lore and rumors among the people here, I will mention a story that is told among them. It is a very popular story, not only whispered between servants and told to children by their nurses, but by men at the taverns, women in the market places, peasants, merchants, and the nobility alike. I remember hearing versions of it as a child, despite it's being a relatively new tale:"

'Once upon a time, there was a princess, and with her father, together, they brought justice to their land and the kingdom was happy again. The princess was happy fighting for justice with her father and because they loved each other, the princess never kept any secrets between them. But perhaps the princess was not as happy as she seemed. She promised never to forget what had happened to her mother and her sister, and though she loved her father, she thought that maybe he couldn't save them because one prince was not enough to bring justice to the land. So she learned magic instead of how to use a sword. This way she might someday, and in her own way, become strong enough to be a prince before anyone would notice what she had been doing. Without knowing it, she had begun to keep secrets. The princess grew up, and because she and her father had brought so much justice to their own kingdom, the princess wanted to do the same for the lands that existed beyond its walls so that no one else would lose their mothers and sisters. By now she believed she was really a prince who only pretended to be a princess. She felt guilty for keeping this secret, but it would be okay, because she loved her father. When she asked her father about those lands, he laughed and said that, yes, it was true that other lands needed justice too, but she was a princess and needed to stay in her own kingdom because that was how a princess was supposed to fight for justice.'

"There is more to the story than that, but I have said so much, and I and afraid that it all does very little to answer your questions. I am sure your will here more complete versions of the tale during your stay."

"No," Zelgadis interrupted, "No—as always, you have been more than helpful, and I thank you," he added, sincerely grateful, "I guess my problem is piecing it all together."

"Isn't that always the case with such things?" said Hansa. He closed his eyes, as if recalling some happy memory, before continuing, "I realize now, that I might have been infatuated with the Princess, it was bound to happen—but that was a long time ago, and we know differently now, don't we? 'Nostalgia colors events in time, and we are men of reason, after all,' so the saying goes," he looked at Zelgadis, smiling his cleric's smile. Zelgadis also smiled at the old adage, not really sure what made it so funny.

"If anything," he shrugged, conceding.

"As a man of reason, I am sure you will put these things together in your mind eventually. As for myself, I am a cleric and am concerned with the realms of the spirit, more so than that of the mind. I fear I can be of little more help to you in that respect, since as a cleric, I know the realm of women less, and they also say a woman's mind borders the realm of no reason."

"However," he continued, "I do know that if a person is concerned with the well-being of another, then they might be better off broaching that subject with whom it concerns, and there is no better expert on the realm of women than a woman. She is not so changed, sir. She would not seek you out, but neither would she turn you away. I know this much, as well."


	4. Chapter 4

1Creator's note 4---

At this point, it's been about 4 years since my last update---and anyone who cared from back then probably doesn't even remember this story (does anyone even remember the original anime anymore?). Many things have happened since then---now that I'm going through a long over-due period of asexuality (less hassle, I don't have to shave my legs, I don't have to play dumb, I get to listen to a lot of Morrissey. . .) I can fulfill my biological impetus to procreate by writing. I finally introduce some more palpably absent familiar characters. All that has been written so far has been for the sole purpose of setting up what is about to happen.

This is by far the longest chapter of the story. Even so, parts of it seem rushed. I probably should have broken it up into two chapters. But I promised sexy bits, and you're going to get them. Dammit! And, yes, you can use the word "fuck" without compromising the integrity of the narrative, despite what my 5TH-grade teacher told me about using that kind of language.

Oh, and before I forget it's: "mo-boo set-see se-koo" of "kwah-doo-lay kweh-piz-zuh-kesh", but really fast.

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Zelgadis did not immediately seek Amelia's company. This was not out of shyness; he simply did not know what to say to her. He was still at a loss for words on the afternoon he did see her. Fortunately for Zelgadis, this would be one of those times when such things didn't matter.

He found her while aimlessly pacing the columned walk that skirted the central garden of the monastery (He had taken to wearing black now. Surprisingly enough, he had discovered that the grays of his usual attire stood out in the overwhelming whites of the palace and even more so in the various shadows of the Library vaults. Not one to willingly draw attention to himself, he liked the change; it seemed appropriate. It suited him: it made him feel sinister). She was seated with her back towards him surrounded by a quay of children. Dressed once again in white, in the shadow of the late queen's monument, she sat erect and quite still, unconscious to the fact that she had become a copy of her mother's pale spectre. No one took any notice of him.

The children were listening, in rapt attention, to the story she was telling them, and he, having no intention of changing this, consigned himself to listening as she spoke, becoming engrossed as he recognized it as only part of a larger tale, which had taken on a different meaning all together.

". . ._ She had promised her father that she would stay in the kingdom and be a good princess, because she loved her him, and until he asked her to stay in the kingdom, he had never asked for anything from her except that she never keep secrets from him. But she was beginning to think that he had been keeping secrets from her too, so she didn't feel so guilty about being a secret prince anymore---and once you break a promise, it becomes easy to break others; you can't remember how many you've broken, especially if you can't forget your love, like the princess couldn't, so your love makes you forget, because from the beginning her promises were replaced by secrets. It had been a long time since her mother died, and the princess had almost forgotten her sister. But she still thought about other lands and the people with mothers and sisters who need justice too. So, when her father left their kingdom to go on adventures and bring justice to those other lands (because he was a prince), the princess secretly followed after him. You see, she had begun to think that because of what happened to her mother, her sister had left so that she could be a prince and fight for justice. Because they were sisters and shared the same heart, there could be no secrets between them, and she knew that she hadn't been left behind. If the princess left, she wouldn't have to be a princess anymore and could be a prince and she would find her sister, who had really been waiting for her the whole time, and they would do these things together. So it happened again. The princess had another secret to keep from her father_. . . ._"_

And just like that, the story was over. With nothing else to distract them the children began to play. Amelia watched indulgently, and Zelgadis imagined her face relaxed into a reserved mask of serenity.

"Hello Zelgadis," she did not turn to see if it were really he. He stepped out from behind the columns; there was no longer any need for concealment. She whispered to the nearest child, a small girl clinging to her side, and unable to convince her with words, cupped both hands together and opened them, releasing a bright illusionary butterfly. This succeeded where words had not, the child, along with her compatriots who had also been hovering near, chased after it, leaving only their trailing laughter behind. With a glance, Amelia wordlessly invited him to join her.

"Resorting to devious tactics, I see," he said, maneuvering around the stone bench.

She shrugged slightly, replying, "Needs must. You would know that." She looked at him, finally, and smiled with genuine warmth as he sat beside her.

"I didn't want to interrupt your story," before adding, "I'm sure the children anticipate the next installment."

"New characters always color the plot, as do good friends and adventure." She smiled as she said this.

"They were good times, Amelia. I'm glad we shared them," he said.

"Aren't we clever?"

"Yes," he smiled, enjoying the droll turn of their conversation. It was as if they were two different people without responsibilities to burden them----even though they both knew that this, too, was an illusion. Amelia, ever so slightly inclined her face, as if she were thinking about something far away.

"The Library—have you found what you've been looking for—is it good enough?" She did not add "good enough for him". Instead, she resumed watching the children.

"No, not yet," he said.

"Oh," she said, disappointment evident in her voice, "I had hoped that, perhaps…"

"I haven't even begun to make a dent in all you have collected here. The Library is extraordinary. It is a remarkable achievement, Amelia," he said, and hesitantly placed his hand over hers: a conciliatory gesture. No one said anything. The air was thick with the sound of children's laughter. He moved away hastily.

"Well, I suppose I should be---I mean, I'm sure you're very busy."

"It's nothing at all, really. . . .do stay a bit longer---only if you're not to busy, of course."

"Oh, right. The Library. . ." He mulled over the arguments he had formed for either case. Surprisingly, he hadn't really come up with any against staying. . .

"Never mind, then," she rose from her seat, "You are staying at the palace, after all, it's not as if we COULDN'T see each other at any time while you are here." Smiling, she curtsied like anyone else would blink his or her eyes, and she left.

She had a point. He was and they could, after all after all after all after all. . . .

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But they didn't. And Zelgadis finally succumbed to his curiosity about the events that were going on around him. Maybe then, he convinced himself, he could see everything in context and perhaps figure out why things were the way they were and why some of them were so dramatically changed.

To do this, he had to excuse Hansa for the day, and the page said nothing except to briefly explain the layout of the palace grounds in his quiet, unassuming way. Even with the instructions, it took Zelgadis most of the morning to navigate the various halls. The palace was not built to be a fortress, like most of the conventional castles of much smaller kingdoms, but a vast compound consisting of many axial structures surrounding and encompassed in the main building. Adding to that, he was still trying to move around in secret, and he was loath to ask any of the palace staff for assistance. If Zelgadis were not so self-conscious about his own motives, he would've regretted the dismissal of Hansa who could have otherwise acted as a guide.

But he did find Amelia who also happened, for the moment, to be by herself (!), and he was about to go up to her when he was deterred by the approach of a foreign envoy. He retreated into the shadows, hoping that whatever it was they needed to see the princess about would be taken care of quickly. No such luck. Instead of immediately going to her they stopped near where he had hidden himself. While they didn't seem to notice his presence, Amelia didn't seem to notice them, nor did they attempt to change this arrangement. They were all wearing the same colors, variations of some kind of livery. The one that stood out most had the most wore the most expensive looking clothes and an obscene amount of jewelry. That, and the fact that all of the others in the party seemed to defer to him indicated that this was probably a royal contingent, including the royal in question and not just a group of representatives. Wedged between a wall and the entourage, Zelgadis had no choice but to listen in on whatever tedious conversation they were having amongst themselves.

"I can't believe it's taken this long to be granted private audience with her highness. I've had the best bards compose letters to woo her, sent countless treasures from my kingdom, and this is how I am received?"

"You Lordship, while I cannot confirm whether she has received those commissioned letters, my sources have told me that she has donated all of the gifts to charity."

"What?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace. But I believe she intended to fund the Library. . ."

"Is that not what taxes are for?"

"I believe, sir, that she did not wish to overly burden the people with an excessive tax. Wouldn't want the peasantry to revolt."

"Ah, well peasants are always revolting, aren't they?"

"Your Grace has a most excellent sense of humor."

"Don't I? Perhaps I should send more gifts to fund her little project. No---I wouldn't want to get too involved. . ."

"I've heard, sir, that she utilizes her connections with the monster race. . ."

"Yes, and I've heard rumors that one of them is presently a guest at the palace. . ."

"At a time like this? How repugnant!"

"Yes indeed, my lord."

"Seyruun's royal family is stark raving mad. I find it hard to believe they can maintain rule over their country."

"Seyruun is very wealthy, my lord."

"Yes. They may all be insane, but Seyruun is quite an acquisition. Her highness is pretty in a conventional sort of way besides being silly enough to manage. The sooner I marry into the family the better, I say. She'll be too busy breeding my heirs to have time for this Library nonsense."

"Your foresight is commendable, my liege."

"I suppose we should join her now. In the meantime, have a servant sweep the streets for a dozen or so unfortunates. I want them to serenade her with the song of my country. No one too dirty. Just artistically filthy enough to make me appear concerned with humanitarian affairs. She seems like the sentimental type. . ."

Zelgadis watched as the prince joined Amelia at a small table covered by a careful arrangement of game pieces. The prince removed one of his many rings and gave it to her. Zelgadis wondered if people were corrupted by power or if they had merely been born vile.

He remembered that it was his own thirst for power that caused the hideous transformation of his body. It was shortly after this happened that he was taken into town to further certain aspects of his "education", as it was the custom his closest male relative to do so. Rezo, of course, only did this to add a layer of cruelty to his twisted designs. He had to pay the Madame extra to clean up the mess. Zelgadis had never been with a woman since, never wanting to relive that shame. Monster. Man. A thing between. So little separated these things.

Zelgadis watched as Amelia took the proffered gift and handed it to a servant. No. Power changed people, but change wasn't inherently evil. He left the frightened boy he was before a long time ago and understood the difference between monster and man. This prince had everything that Zelgadis believed he could not, yet he knew his own quality was something much higher. Why did this make his so angry?

"You look a bit heated."

"Hello Lina," he turned to greet his old friend, "I was wondering when you were going to come around." She smirked.

"Likewise. Although I haven't decided, yet, if I am surprised to see you here or not. Black suits you, by the way." He did not bother to respond to her earlier remark and she, to her credit, did not press. for the moment.

_"_. . ._Once upon a time there was a princess. She did not find her sister, but she found other people who fought for justice and she began to travel and have adventures with them. . ._

"You picked a fine time for a visit. That's Prince Mobu Setse Seku IV, third in line for the throne of Quadule Quipezquech, currently one of the top contenders here for the lovely hand of one Amelia Will Tesla de Seyruun."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Quadule Quipezquech. Tiny kingdom, but he's got a big ego to compensate. He's aching for the chance to rule Seyruun. He'll even listen to King Philionel's lectures on the meaning of life if he thinks it will make him the favorite. I like to call him 'Four' for short."

"He's an idiot."

"Oh he's insipid---he's dumber than Gourry. Look---Amelia's beaten him at go three times now. Walk with me. I don't enjoy watching spoiled princelings lose at board games."

"It's not that the guy's so horrible. I mean, the rest of them aren't much better," she continued as the walked, "It's just that any thing else would be beyond their experience. They can't all be bad. But like I tell Amelia: 'if they ain't rotten, they're already taken, and if not, well, there's a reason they're still single.'"

They left the veranda and Zelgadis found himself being led through a labyrinth of tight corridors.

"You're okay to get back, right Zel? We're taking the service route 'cause it's faster; they've got a twenty-four hour buffet going on in one of the lesser dining halls. Absolutely brilliant!"

"Uh. Sure," he said, even though he wasn't.

_. . .Her father let her go, because he loved his daughter, and love, too busy loving to remember, forgets promises made to replace his own secrets. With tears in his eyes, he said 'I am so proud of my daughter who has grown up, now she is bringing justice to other lands, like a good princess!' He didn't know about her secrets, but it was okay because she loved her father and she promised to make everything he said true. . . _

"She's only doing this for her father, you know," she stopped to shake a pebble out of her boot, "It's sort of his last-ditch effort to secure an heir for Seyruun through diplomacy. Ironically, the King would let her do anything she wanted. Not that you'd be interested."

"Right."

_. . .And the princess was happy because she thought she would find love and justice and that finally her secret wish to be a prince would be fulfilled. . . _

She stamped her heel three times against the paver stones. "I wouldn't be worried about it. Except that Amelia sort of HAS TO---what with half her family in exile for treason and the other half dead. That rules out the usual suspects: second, third, quadruple-removed cousins and the like. No matter how many libraries she builds, her worth to Seyruun will always be measured in breeding, any way you choose to look at it."

_. . .This was true. She was having adventures and fighting for justice, and eventually she fell in love with a man. . . _

"I'm not worried about it."

"Uh-huh."

"So tell me, Lina---should I feel slighted because you didn't tell me about the Library any sooner?" He followed as the sorceress sashayed through a side door. Inside was a room filled with more food that he'd seen in one place for a long time. Lina shoved a large platter into his hands before snatching another for her self. From the way she began to pile food onto both plates, he seriously doubted that what he carried was meant for him.

"Nobody knew where you were. The last time I saw you had been the first time in ages---you should really try the chicken. It quite literally melts in your mouth." Half of what she picked out she immediately ate.

"I was. . .busy. . .among other things. . ." he grimaced.

"EVERYONE'S been busy," she said between mouthfuls, "We've been building this damn Library. It's been only me and Gourry---who's useless as tits on a snake a good deal of the time. Siphiel's beginning work on an auxiliary branch where Scyrag used to be so she can rebuild that city. Then there's Fillia and Xellos, who as you know can't stand each other. . ."

_. . .She wanted her new friends to stay together forever because she thought that she didn't have to keep secrets from them and they would understand this. . . _

"So everyone's been in on it except for me?"

"Oh! Don't be an ass! You were doing your own thing, and you know how you get about interference. Besides, you're here now. I figured you'd show up eventually. I take it you haven't found what you're looking for---and have you seen any crab cakes?"

"Not as of yet, and no, I haven't seen any crab cakes."

"Damn. Well, keep an eye out, they're really good---sorry about that other thing, but I can't say I'm surprised." They had known each other long enough to share silence comfortably.

"So where is Gourry?"

"I don't know---I'm just glad he hasn't found this place yet. Otherwise there'd be nothing left for me to eat," she began to pick her teeth with a discarded chicken bone.

"Why are you here?"

"Who, me?" she brushed the crumbs off the front of her shirt, "Library business, of course. That, and the selection ceremony tomorrow night. Oh, I can't wait to see that. It's gonna be a riot! But you couldn't pay me to go to whatever it is that's happening tonight."

_. . .But they had all been so busy with adventures and fighting for justice that she couldn't tell them her secrets. She realized this was the price of being a prince. . . _

"Selection ceremony?"

"Like, the reason all these other jerks are here. Duh!" She snatched the collar of an unfortunate busboy.

"You! Where have they hidden the crab cakes? Crab cakes, man! CRAB CAKES!"

"So what's going on tonight?" Zelgadis sidestepped to avoid the visibly shaken servant.

"Dinner. Dancing. Courtiers who breathe out of their mouths. You should go. She'd want to see you before you skipped town."

"She's changed."

"Well, she's always been weird. Politics just made her weirder. I guess you have been out of touch with things, haven't you?" She was stuffing dinner rolls in her pockets.

_. . .And she couldn't tell the man she was in love with that she loved him because she couldn't love him as a prince. . ._

"It was HER idea to stop writing," he snapped before he could stop himself.

"Oh-ho! I didn't know you two were writing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not the one wearing flashy new clothes." Zelgadis was too angry to answer. Lina sighed.

"I know that was a bit below the belt---heh! Sorry---double pun. You walked right into that one. Eh?" She elbowed him in the side, trying to make her point in exaggerated pantomime. "You know I only do it 'cause we're friends. We are still friends, right?" He gave in.

"I only PUT UP with it because we're friends."

"Right-o! And you really SHOULD go to that ghastly thing tonight. Promise me you'll go, Zel."

"Well I can't figure out why you're not going. Have you given up on your plan to convince some petty lordling to give you a ridiculously expensive castle?"

"Oh no. Tonight's not my sortie. That's what tomorrow night is for. Real estate is a hot investment these days. It's a seller's market."

"Hades has no Limbo for you, Lina Inverse."

_. . .The princess and her new friends brought justice to the world many times. But people were still unhappy and many mothers still died and sisters still ran away. . . _

"Only if there's no all-you-can-eat smorgasbord, it doesn't. But seriously, you have to go tonight."

"Alright. You've convinced me," even though he wasn't.

"Fantastic! Time for dessert! Wait! Do I see? Could it possibly? It is! Oh, you gotta try the crab cakes. They are deeeee---licious!"

And they were.

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_. . .The princess learned that she hadn't grown up like her father had said, and she was very sad because she had broken her promises to him and even her secrets were a lie, because she didn't bring justice to the world, couldn't find a sister she never knew, and she was really only a princess pretending to be a prince_. . . ._"_

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His head reeled. Zelgadis mentally checked off the sequence of events that had just transpired:

So he went to the ballroom to attend whatever it was that was happening as per his friend, Lina Inverse's, request that he do so. He spent the first part of the evening doing his best to fade into the wall, not being able to find Amelia amidst all the pomp, posturing, and glamour that came with such events. By the third waltz, he'd just about done with it all, always in the way of someone or something to do with the party, so he left to get some fresh air. On the balcony he met Amelia(!), who also seemed to not be having such a good time, because while these things were usually quite nice, she confessed, most of the dignitaries were terrible bores. This was funny, so they laughed and talked about this, that, or the other (he told her that he didn't dance and she told him not to worry: she only liked dancing in taverns where ladies drank for free on Thursdays, so he confessed that it would be the same for him, too, if he danced)---she was mostly interested in hearing about his travels, which seemed more exciting now that someone else seemed to pay attention. She'd begun to resemble more of her former self, and whole thing was turning out to be not-so-bad, and then her father joined them, requesting a dance with his daughter, which was also not-so-bad because King Philionel was always funny. . . .

. . . .Unfortunately, the king had been followed by Prince Mobu Setse Seku (IV), in full regalia, with his entire entourage, and a half-dozen other courtiers or so. The prince then proceeded to demand why the princess, Amelia, had run off with a monster, Zelgadis, and why the sovereign king of Seyruun, King Philionel, was allowing his daughter to cavort with a monster, insulting the prince and the other distinguished Guests of State. Amelia attempted to smooth over the situation, and the prince responded by saying less than complementary things about the princess and the royal family that were just as bad, if not worse, than the less than complementary things he had to say about Zelgadis. While the king tried to calm the growing mob and deflect some of the public embarrassment, Zelgadis was enduring more negative attention than he ever hoped to receive for the rest of his life. The only thing that could make the situation any worse was if Zelgadis decided to draw his sword and start a fight with prince Mobu Setse Seku (IV), so Zelgadis began to draw his sword, intending to start a fight with prince Mobu Setse Seku (IV). He was sure he could have won the fight, too, if he had not noticed that Amelia had left the scene altogether. And Zelgadis thought that it would be a better use of his energy to check up on her than to rough up an ally of the State.

Which was why he found himself running through the palace, hoping no one had followed him, his head reeling as he tried to figure out how he had gotten himself in this mess.

The courtiers were not a problem. Even if they had been able to follow him, they would not leave the ballroom, the very idea would never occur to them in their aristocratic world. He stopped running, figuring there would be no need since he could be sure he hadn't been followed and he could assume that the only place Amelia could safely sequester herself would be her own palace apartments.

He reconnoitered around an adjacent corridor and was able to accost a wandering servant, pulling her by the wrist to where he stood concealed in the shadows. He questioned her, perhaps a bit too tersely. Only after much blubbering, the shaken girl, probably a scullery maid (which would explain her presence outside of the ballroom), managed to point a trembling finger towards the western wing of the palace. Muttering a hasty thanks and pressing some coin into her palm, he did his best disappearance routine before the girl would have the chance to think about what had just happened.

He found the room after a time. It was the room with the sword hanging over the door, one that he had originally assumed was the Library. Of course Amelia would have her own private reading room. One needed to know some lore in her position, and she had learned magic at some point, after all.

Inside the rooms were spacious; feminine, yet unextravagant. Each room opened into the next, though some were attached to the main chambers from the side if it was more appropriate to their function, and the entire left façade was made up of floor to ceiling bay windows that faced an arched balcony that ran throughout the apartments.

Adjoining the reading room was a reception lounge, and through an archway he could see a private office, which smelled of ink, paper, and wax. Piles of quills and nibs, seals, blocks of wax, and various irregularly filled inkpots lay next to neat stacks of parchment and vellum on her desk and probably squirreled away in the many boxes that lined monumental shelves. His own handwriting, if it appeared on anything there, could not be seen.

He did not check the next room to his left; it smelled of water and copper pipes, had the acoustics of a space encased in marble and tile, and just so happened to be connected to a dressing room. A hidden entranceway led to another room, though clean, seemed as though it had not been used in much time. It was different from the others, more brightly colored with frescos of clouds on the ceiling. There were toys here, crystal dollhouses, hand painted marionettes, mechanical dragons, antique carousel horses, and priceless bone china tea sets absurdly miniaturized. In fact everything, from the plate armor with the royal coat of arms to the furnishings, made of the finest materials had been made small. This room had not been entered for years, save for a ritualistic cleaning that kept the room free of dust but left everything where it lay as it had been. Some of the toys, though not any of the newer objects, were in pairs. Zelgadis wondered what Amelia's childhood had been like. He shut the door behind him. No one would be in there.

He finally came to the last room, which was obviously the bedroom. It mortified him to no small extent that this would be the worst place to be caught snooping around in. Like the other rooms (save the abandoned playroom) this one appeared to belong to someone accustomed to solitude and also quite empty. He was beginning to feel very embarrassed by his brash invasion of Amelia's privacy having nearly forgotten why it was he had been looking for her in the first place. He would have left then had he not noticed the open window.

Amelia's dark silhouette cast a jagged shadow across the stone railing.

"I came to see if you were alright."

"Yes," she said, as if it was both an answer to his question and an acknowledgement of his presence. Unconsciously he found the small bracelet he had been carrying with him and conspiratorially its edge. He stepped out onto the balcony. She hugged her sides, sitting on a broad stone bench, she stare out at the city spread out in front of her.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused. I regret to be absent at such an important time for you, but it's best I leave Seyruun tomorrow."

"Could you find no answers in the Library?"

"I have not finished searching through it."

"You do not think you will find it here." This was not a question.

"Your Library is extraordinary. Perhaps Lina can tell me if there is anything I have not had a chance to look into. With everything that has been going on I fear I haven't been able to focus on my purposes here, not to mention the trouble it must put you through."

"You know nothing about my troubles," and to his shame he realized that this was true.

"You are right. That was a very thoughtless thing to say," he said, truly sorry.

"No, sir. Forgive me. I had no right to say those things."

He debated with himself before stepping closer to her. Reaching out he hesitantly touched her hair, knowing he was about to say something completely improprietous.

"If you would like, I would. . .I'd listen if you wanted to tell me what was troubling you." He was uncertain of his choice of words.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I am no longer free to tell you. Even if I were, I do not even have my own words to tell it." She ignored his gesture and the tentative feeling behind it. He let his hand drop. She possessed that doll-like quality---heavy-lidded down cast eyes, a porcelain cast to her face, a small bow-shaped mouth---of a woman consumed with unspeakable sorrow. Perhaps his own association to sadness drew him to such women. It suddenly seemed very inappropriate to be there.

"(Cough) I'll be leaving first thing tomorrow. I'm not sure that I'll be able to write. I cannot express how grateful I am for being able to see you Library. Maybe one day I'll return and resume where I left off."

"Zelgadis," she interrupted. Amelia had suddenly and fiercely latched her hand over hers own. He was too taken aback to do anything but stand perfectly still as she stared at his hand, caressing an exposed fingernail. She peeled off his glove and pressed his hand, palm down, against her cheek. She closed her eyes as she did this, letting go of a heavy sigh as if she had been released of a great burden. He pulled away and she let him.

"I made a mistake," he said quickly, searching for an easy retreat, "I shouldn't be here."

"I thought," she began. He stopped and looked at her.

"You thought what?" The words were colder than he intended.

"I thought I could convince you to stay." She made a move, half innocent, half seductive, which had the effect of becoming a parody of itself. He found it repulsive. She was evidently still a girl, not a woman as he had nearly convinced himself she was. It made him angry. He pulled her to her feet.

"Silly girl,' he hissed. As she struggled to pull away from him, he put her hand against his chest.

"Do you feel this? Don't pull away, this is what you wanted isn't it?" He pointed to his face.

"See if your city still loves you when you are associated with this---bore this as Seyruun's heir! This is what I am. This cannot be changed by you, your Library, a child's bracelet, or anything you've got between your legs!" He let her go, resolved to leave her, her Library, her city, and never return. Then she slapped him. Hard.

"You selfish bastard," she tried to recompose herself. "Do you really think any of that ever mattered to me? I love you. I love all of you. And nothing you might think you are is going to change any of that."

He touched his burning cheek and stared at her. He was wrong. She was a woman. she stopped being a girl a long time ago. She was passionately angry now, still disheveled as she attempted to straighten herself and slow her breathing, all the while clutching his glove in her fist until her knuckles were white.

She was unexpectedly very beautiful.

"You should probably leave," she said finally.

"Are you sending me out?" He took her hand into his. It probably hurt her hand more than it hurt his face when she struck him. He examined it, tracing a circle on her upturned palm with his thumb.

"I don't know," she said. She looked at his hand holding hers then back at him. Her hand was small and pale, pink where she hit him. It was warm when he pressed it against his cheek. He felt along her short, clean fingernails, lightly dug into a cuticle with his own nail, and pressed down each of the knuckles to feel them spring back. She did not pull away.

"What are you going to do?" she asked instead. He let go of her hand to touch her hair again. This time she did not ignore him. They were only touching eachother, perhaps to see what it was like to be the other. A pointed ear, a stony ridge of scales where the eyebrow of an ordinary man would have been, a patch of leather-hard skin beneath his jaw.

"I don't know," he said. She didn't seem to have any expectations. An exposed shoulder, the mass of short black curls at the nape of her neck, the flash of her throat as she breathed quietly, evenly. Her thumb tested the edge of his pronounced incisor. His hand closed over hers and he bit into the fleshy end of her fingertip.

"This is who I am," he said into the cup their hands had created. He needed her to know that it would be no different anywhere else.

"Yes, I know." she closed her eyes, opened them and closed them again.

He kissed her neck near her ear, her cheek under her left eye, and the crease between her bottom lip and her chin. "This will hurt."

"I am not afraid."

What ever else could be said was lost because they had no words, and if they did, they were not free to use them.

---------------------------------------------

Zelgadis woke the next morning galled at his utter lack of control. He lay against Amelia's chest uncomforted by the protective circle of her arms. He carefully disengaged from her. Her arms fell back into the linens, dead weight.

He searched around the room for his clothes and dressed himself. He could not find his other glove. He tried to think about her feelings, but all could think about was fucking her again. So he though about the few things he would have to retrieve from his own room instead. Reaching into his cloak, he considered returning the cuff. He decided to keep it, and crept out of the room as quietly as he could.

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_"_. . ._Once upon a time, there was a princess . . ._

Lina appeared to be waiting for him when Zelgadis walked into this inn. He really didn't have a choice, so he joined her at the table while she glared at him from behind an array of untouched lunch entrees.

"Is something wrong?"

"Don't be flippant." Lina was a lot of things, and subtle was not one of them. He wasn't going to like this conversation.

_. . .Her adventures were over and her friends went their separate ways. She told the man she was in love with that she loved him, because she was tired of keeping secrets. . . _

"I take it you've spoken to Amelia." He wanted to be done with this as fast as he could, but he knew Lina wasn't going to let that happen.

_. . .He promised they would meet again and she was happy for just those words because she no longer expected anything to amount to much. . ._

"We were supposed to have brunch this morning, so I guess you could say that."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all," she drummed her fingers against the table top, "But she didn't have to. My blood sugar might be low due to the fact that my breakfast plans had to be radically altered, but I'm not stupid."

_. . .All her beliefs had proved unfounded, and she herself had broken every promise she had ever made. . . _

"So how long have you been waiting here for me?"

"Oh I'm waiting for Gourry. I thought you would be halfway across the continent by now---or you would be if you were smart. But I guess I'm not at all surprised, since being smart doesn't seem to be your thing right now."

"Is she alright?"

"What do you think?"

_. . .She returned to her kingdom because she was tired of pretending to be a prince and tired of keeping secrets. She would be a princess again, the only thing she was meant to be, and fight for justice the way a princess would. . . _

"I don't know." They sat in heated silence.

"She did say she wanted me to return your glove to you. I can't say I'm sorry that I've forgotten to bring it."

"Oh," he said, looking at his hands, "That."

"Damn-it to hell!" Lina slammed her fist on the table. She looked around the room to see if she attracted any unnecessary attention to herself before regarding Zelgadis with a hard, leveling stare. when she spoke again it was through clenched teeth.

"You have made me so angry, I can't eat. I NEED TO EAT!" She took a moment and collected herself, "But since my food is already cold, and we're all supposed to be adults, there's really no point. (Sigh)." She caught a waiter's attention and re-ordered everything that had gone cold.

"I'll pay your tab, if you want," Zelgadis said lamely, trying to make amends.

"Don't bother," said Lina, "I make it a point to never pay the food bill when I'm in town."

They sat in silence for a long time. When the food came, Lina munched absently, lost in her thoughts.

_. . .Her father, who in his dotage had forgotten which promises had been made and broken for what secrets he couldn't remember had been kept by whom, cried when he saw her. He said, 'I am so proud of my grown-up daughter who has come back from bringing justice to the world. My daughter is a good princess and everyone will be happy and we will keep no secrets between us!'. . ._

"Still too angry to eat?"

"No, I'm not angry anymore." More silence.

"Let me ask you something, Zell. Why are you here?"

"I didn't think it would be appropriate to eat at the palace. . ."

_. . .The princess embraced her father because she loved him, but she knew that all good princesses had to keep secrets and that she had to forget her love to fight for justice . . . _

"That's not what I meant. Why are you HERE? I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I just don't buy it anymore. How can you look me in the eye and say that you honestly believe you're going to find what you're looking for? Are you planning to wander around god-knows-where forever? Do you even remember what you're looking for?"

"I, um. . .I don't know how to answer that."

"Human is just a word, Zell. Why does that scare you so much?"

"I need to be free of the things that constrain me."

_. . .And the princess was good and her kingdom loved her because she brought justice to them and they were happy. . ._

"Everybody does. That's life. Amelia wasn't always miserable---which actually has very little to do with you---but I've seen her doing something constructive with her misery, and, honestly, I think she's going to be okay. I've been running around trying to escape from under my sister's shadow for a long time, but I'm done with that. I'm just gonna finish this Library business, write my memoirs, maybe get a tenured position at the Magic Academy here, and live off the book residuals in retirement. As for Gourry, we have an arrangement. It works."

_. . .She tried to forget the man she loved who traveled to all the other lands she could no longer see and have adventures in. But she could share his adventures and see those lands as he described them in his letters. . ._

"Are you suggesting me and Amelia?"

"No. That business is between you and her. As I remember it, I only asked you to spend some time with her, not sleep with her. I thought that maybe you'd stop moping around and have some fun---of which you are in desperate need. What worries me about you is that if your still hell-bent on your ridiculous search, why would you go out of your way to screw up a relationship with someone who, not only has the resources that would enable you to continue, but likes you enough to give them to you? This leads me back to my first question, which you haven't answered: why are you here?"

"I don't know."

_. . .and she couldn't be jealous because that was the only way she could love him as a princess and still secretly be a prince. . . _

"Well then the only thing constraining you IS you, and that has nothing to do with your physical form."

Before he could respond, Gourry burst into the inn, as if on cue. Zelgadis was secretly relieved for the interruption.

"Hey Lina. Oh hi, Zelgadis," he said throwing all his bulk onto a chair that miraculously didn't collapse under his weight. He began to wolf down any of the food within his immediate reach. Lina began to look even more cross than before, although this had nothing to do with the previous conversation.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"Mat ba palaff," Gourry mumbled between bites. He took a long drink and beat his chest before he continued. "Hey, you know the food's cold, right? (Cough). Man, it's crazy over there right now. Things have gone completely pear-shaped." He began work on an over-sized turkey leg.

"What has?"

"(Glurp!) I dunno. Something about Amelia being missing."

"What?" Lina nearly jumped out of her chair. Zelgadis said nothing, but gripped the edge of the table until his nails dug into the wood.

"Oh yeah—excuse me," Gourry paused to swallow, "Yeah, she's gone. I think they were saying something about Zelgadis being in trouble---they asked me, but I didn't know anything about it. I think that's why there's people waiting for him outside. Boy, they look mad. . ."

"Shit! Gourry, you're dumber than sod!" The noise outside had attracted the attention of everyone in the inn, mostly because an angry mob had burst in. They were mostly soldiers in the livery of Seyruun, but some bore the arms of Quadule Quipezquech, and various other foreign sovereignties.

"That's it. I give up. Nobody's going to let me eat today." Lina threw up her hands in resignation, which was just as well because a nasty melee had just broken out.

_. . .She knew that was the price of being one_. . . ._"_


	5. Chapter 5

1Creator's note 5---

Here we are at the end. I kind of wish that I wrote a bit more about prince "Four". I shouldn't have made him so repungnant. As is, he's nothing more than a cypher; the Rotten Noble. That's me being a lazy writer.

I also miss Hansa.

I really like the conversations between Lina and Zelgadis. So much instantly quote-able dialogue ("crabcakes, man. . .CRABCAKES!")! She couldn't talk to him without Hansa, a stranger, talking to Zelgadis first. And Hansa, could not talk to him about something so personal. It was the perfect place to insert Lina. She was always a realist. Which is why she was eating in every scene—the gesture firmly grounded her in the material world. In the real and now. Unfortunately, I couldn't add as much of her as I wanted. I had to cut a scene between her and Amelia. It would have broken the narrative and it was too heavy handed. I have to clarify something though: Lina insults Gourry only because she likes him so much.

But honestly, if you're still pissed about all of the liberties I took in the text, it's too late now, so enjoy it for what it is. I had a lot of fun writing this, especially the beginning of this chapter (I "heart" you Steve-o, Lemmy, and anonymous drunk at the bar---you three are truly sages for the new age). Oh, you'll get it after reading further---that and I get to quote a story about Krucheiv and Gorbachov. This chapter is inspired by my experiences in the two professions that taught me the most about life. The first job, where I was server at Denny's (a restaurant for two types of people: the really exhausted and the really wasted), taught me that the Stupid Secrets of the Universe are not answered in College but by the steely-eyed weathered-face regulars who'd never been to the university. Secondly was my experiences as a teacher (or as I call it, "birth-control"). This is for the regulars and for all the students who told me I was weird. And the British, for culturing in me a love of Anglo-slang.

And finally, this is for the readers because it is your story (the ending is intentionally oblique because it is yours to do with it as you will). Thank you for taking the journey with me.

Title, anyone? I might be forced to call this story "Soundtrack by Phil Collins" because "Against All Odds" sounds too corny.

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"So that's it. That's all there is?" The woman called herself Naga. She yawned across the table from him and made a face at the warming dregs at the bottom of her mug.

"Except for the fight, yes. But you can see the results of that battle, and it's not that kind of story," said Zelgadis. It was difficult to hear over the rowdy din of the tavern, but this was exactly the sort of place one would conduct his business. No one would notice his words over the debauched exaggerations of a drunkard's story.

_"Oi! Lishun to thish, mate…Onesh upon a time, thar wis this princess, see?"_

"The sorceress and her companion did not back your play?"

"She did, but you must understand that I put her in an awkward position. Openly helping me---recently accused of abducting the heir among other acts of terrorism, would. . .compromise. . .her political standing."

_"Aw, she wis right fit---(Blurp!) 'scuse me. Like I wis saying, right? This princess, her 'ventures were over and her friends went their separate ways, like ya do. (Snort!). So she told the man she wis in love wiv tha' she fancied 'im, yeah? And 'e_ _promised 'er tha' they'd meet again an' the bird wis aw' happy fey just those words 'cause she no longer expected anyfing to amount to much…"_

"I see. Lina is many things, and expediency is no exception. I would have expected her to back up her comrades. Still, this is a. . .different. . .situation. Who'd have thought SHE'D be a diplomat," mused the sorceress, the last part more to herself, than to him. Zelgadis reconsidered the woman he'd just met.

_"Smart bird, yeah? Figured when a bloke opens 'is mouth it's lies tha' come out."_

"_Shaddup, Lemmy! I'm the one telling the facking story---no' you, you stupid kant."_

"_I'm no' the one too pished to tell it properly, Steve-o. Drunk bastard. . ."_

"You know Lina Inverse?" The woman's face twisted itself in an effort to contain the hilarity in which she regarded his question.

"You could say that," she said slyly, "You know how she gets around."

_"Then yooooou tell it if you ken so bloody much, then…"_

"_Awright, maybe I will, maybe I won't. . ."_

"Indeed," he conceded, not quite sure if he "got" the joke. He was also unsure of what to think about this strange woman. His dealings with this woman were contingent upon whatever information she had intimated would be of interest to him. Upon their meeting, he had written her off as a boozy, lower-level mage with no exceptional talent, save her grotesquely large bosom, and he highly doubted that the information she claimed to have would be of use to him. But he had a nagging suspicion that there was more to this woman than he first thought, and he would have to be more careful in his dealings with her.

In fact, it had been a long time since he had needed to be so guarded. The diminutive, insular hamlet in the Outer Lands was tangential to any major kingdom he'd have to worry about and knew little of the business of Seyrune, save hearsay. They made even less of Zelgadis's freakish appearance. Apparently, the village had seen its share of transients, outcasts, and oddities---serving as some sort of way-station for the dispossessed. Perhaps that was how the township was founded. It seemed appropriate that he would find this Naga woman here. It had been a little over a year since he fled Seyrune, and a month or so since he had been actively been pursued. Zelgadis could ill afford complacency just yet. He figured it was only a matter of time.

_"Right. As I wis sayin'. An' the letters stopped comin' 'cause the man she fancied stopped sendin' 'em…"_

"_Who'd 'av guessed---(Bwaaarrp!)."_

"_I am too pished to dignify the remarks of an uncivilized lout. . ."_

"_Oi---Steve-o. 'E's got you there, mate."_

"Mine's a pint!" Naga bellowed to the nearest barkeeper who could complete the task in the least amount of time---it didn't really matter who. She turned to face Zelgadis, "You're buying of course."

"Of course."

_"So she didnae 'av time to keep secrets about love or 'ventures an' what-fer. She wis too busy bein' a princess, you know, and makin' 'er kingdom 'appy. Didnae even 'av to fight fer justice no more---insteada usin' a sword, she went to meetin's and signed documents an' insteada usin' magic, she helped the poor, gave 'ugs to the wee bairnes an visited the sick an' the like (though the kingdom was so 'appy she soon could only see the bairnes from far in front o' ay benches at the schools she built for 'em an' send gifts to the 'ospitals she built, too, an' wave to aw the kants she got offay streets to build and run aw tha' fackery). . ."_

"_(sniff) s'nough to bring pain to this warriors 'art. . ."_

"_Bugger off, Steve-o!" _

"_Aw, Lemmy, let it go. E' talks like 'e's a geezer, but 'e's aw soft."_

"_Oi! You callin' me a fackin' poof? I'll sort your sorry arse out…"_

"Don't be so suspicious. I am no bounty hunter---at least not after YOU," she watched him relax a bit then narrowed her eyes, "However, if you did that to MY sister, I probably would have killed you by now---but I'm just that sort of woman. . ." and probably roasted his balls and eaten them with sauce, spending the reward money on booze while dancing a jig over his grave. She seemed like THAT sort of woman. Zelgadis barely suppressed a shudder.

"You have strong opinions, Naga."

_"She wis 'appy bein' a good princess---wouldnae' been of use to fink about 'er sadness, right? 'Er dad 'ad forgotten tha' she ever wanted to be a prince, an' even so, could no' 'member why 'e'd wanted to keep 'er from bein' one. _

He was incredibly sorry for what he had done. In the long months during which he drifted from town to town, he spent the time he was not evading armed contingencies and bounty hunters thinking about things he'd avoided thinking about for most of his life. Somewhere between Seyrune and this sorry excuse for a dive, he came to the conclusion that he was not running from the armies of King Philionel, he was running from himself while at the same time running towards something entirely unknown to him---and when he got there it would be too late to apologize. But whatever was waiting there, should they be waiting at all, whoever it was, he knew he could do worse. Perhaps he couldn't do any better, and he realized there, in the bar, as he stared at the dust settling in his watery beer, that he didn't want to.

_"'E wis cryin' like a bairn when e told er: 'I'm so proud o' my daughter but I will 'av to give 'er away 'cause she's 'aw growed up an' must marry a prince so they can bring justice to the kingdom in my place!' An' 'cause she loved 'er dad, she saw many blokes, aw of which were right kants, 'cause this bird knew tha' the lot of 'em hadnae grown up and were only pretendin' to be princes. . ."_

"_Ello, wha's this? Is the princess 'sposed to marry another bird?"_

"_Quiet you! Jis 'cause you cannae understand the bloody language. . ."_

"_. . .Anyways, Aw ay them didnae understand the price ay bein' one an' she wis too busy bein' a princess an' fightin' fer justice in 'er kingdom, which, if it were 'appy or no', the PRINCE-ES ultimately didnae care. Then one day, if you can believe it, the bloke she fancied fulfilled 'is promise an' returned fro' the lands she wis too busy to see an couldnae 'av 'ventures in. When she saw 'im, she couldnae fink if she were 'appy or sad 'cause it wis too late to love 'im as a princess no more an' she never wis a real prince inna first place…"_

As for his quest---well, it had been a long time since it was ever about THAT. It had been nothing more than an excuse, really. If he lost his purpose, then he'd lose his sense of self, therefore he'd have no reason to exist. But he did, he didn't, and there was. He still had this sense of urgency that he felt, well, urgent about. Whatever it was appealed to his sense of something, and he'd pretty much figured out what that something was---but there was no point in telling this to the stranger whom he'd just met in this bar in this strange village. The only person it was worth telling wasn't there. He was aware that finding her might prove to be just another existential short-cut, but then again, he wouldn't really know until he did.

Under normal circumstances he would laugh at the ridiculous irony of this. But this wasn't normal circumstances---not with this dodgey Naga woman around.

"Eh. . ." Naga shrugged, devoting all her concentration to the frothy mug she attended, head tipped back while emptying it of all its contents with lusty gulps. She struck him as a rather vulgar woman.

_"Wha' 'er mum 'av to say 'bout aw tha'?"_

"'_Er mam's dead, 'member?"_

"_No---you dinnae tell tha' part o' ay story."_

"_It's 'sposed to be metaphorical-like an aw, you tit!"_

"_So were they or weren't they real princes?"_

"_Like I said, tha's the mehiphysic bit. Tha's ay problem wiv society, ain't noone finks fey themsel' no-ho. Noone knows ay shite fe ay 'ol inna ground." _

"_I wonder if ay highborn and peasants fack ay same?"_

"_Go-on Steve-o! Ye wouldnae know---ye stink too bad they wouldnae get near ye."_

"_Out-ay order! Out-ay order!"_

"_They wouldnae fancy ye neiver, Lemmy, wha' wiv your culture an' metaphysics an' aw . . ." _

There was a loud crash after much arguing (about what, Zelgadis had little knowledge, not being able to decipher the drunken tones of the thick dialect). But there was no need for alarm. One of the hulking men had merely tripped over his chair while trying to convey his philosophy on culture, bust size, and class disparity when it came to courtship. Somewhere in his periphery, Zelgadis heard the crystalline tones of a young girl's laughter. Naga regarded him from the corners of her eyes, following his to the two girls, probably the innkeeper's daughters, whispering to each other behind the bar.

"Aren't you the ladies man. . ."

"Don't be coy," he replied, evenly, "it doesn't suit you."

"Don't flatter yourself," she retorted while at the same time she motioned to the bar-keep for another drink, "they're silly over the old sword-master's ward. Poor bastard."

"The apprentice?"

"Fuck no, don't be daft. The old man---died recently. Natural causes. Used to teach the children here---mostly just told them stories, being too old and sick and near-sighted and all. His ward—the one they're all silly about---was a healer just wandered into town one day---fancy sword, but no good with it. Old man took him in less as an actual apprentice and more like to ease the pain of his last days in exchange for room and board. Sort of just picked up the teaching when he died. . ."

Zelgadis only half-listened as they both watched the girls skip out of the inn.

"Gah! Saw him once, still useless with a sword---knows some magic though. Too young for my tastes, but you know how girls are at that age---they like the pretty ones."

"Uh-huh. . ."

"I would know---I had a sister once. . ."

"'Had'?"

"Well, HAVE. I left her back home a long time ago. Family problems, you know?"

"I see. . ."

"Left her with two letters, see? Advice in case she ever got in trouble---she'd read the first one which said: 'if you're ever in trouble, blame it all on me,' and if it happened again she'd read the second which said: 'if you're in trouble again, sit down and draft two letters. . .' Pretty clever, no?" She threw back her head and laughed her peculiar laugh. The conversation was beginning to wear on his patience.

"I thought you had information for me," he growled.

"Don't I?" her brows arched over the rim of a fresh mug of the Inn's finest.

"Stupid woman," his bench grated loudly against the floorboards. To hell with Naga, her beer, her information, and everyone else. . . .

"Hot-damn! You are thick! Suit your damned self. As for me--- she winked, "it's probably a good time to go home and smooth things over with dad," she eyed him dangerously, "that should buy you some time."

It did not take half a moment for it all to register before he sprinted out of the inn, hoping the girls that left earlier hadn't gotten too far. . .

Naga smiled. She almost didn't mind paying their tab.

Almost.

-------------------------------------------

_. . .Always upon anytime and ever, there are little girls. It is the secret wish of them all to want to be princesses. As Princesses, everyone will love them because they would bring everyone justice and happiness by being beautiful and good and pretending secretly (even unbeknownst to themselves) to be princes. Because a good princess keeps promises, and not secrets. And a good princess would never need to think of swords because soon she will need a prince, and because she is beautiful and good and makes nice promises without secrets, the prince will fall in love with her always, and for always, and then together they will have adventures where justice is done always, and for always, and no one dies and everyone is happy always, and for always. But little girls forget the price of this. They all go home sleepy-eyed from playing pretend all day instead of learning their home-crafts, history, geography, civics, fencing, and magic lessons. Once home, their fathers, mothers, and sisters, only pretending to scold, will proudly tuck them into bed with good-night yarns, because they love them (and understand that it's far easier to make up stories than it is to read into the truth), where little girls can continue to play princesses in their dreams. . ._

He found the place even though it was a bit outside the city proper. It was absurdly small---he wondered what sort of life she had been living there. He could hear her finishing the tale she had begun.

"_. . .little girls forget the price of this because they are never taught. Tthe love of their fathers, mothers, and sisters forgets to tell them, and sadly often little girls' love for the empty promise of a princess, love too busy to even remember pretend. Instead they think, 'wouldn't it be lucky if I really was a princess!' then, surely, they would get happily ever after. . ." _

He smiled. Whatever sort of life it was, there were parts of Amelia that nothing could change. She would always surround herself with those whom she would give of herself, for better or worse, and gladly so.

"Your stories are weird."

"Ta! That wasn't even a real story---what happened to that princess and all of those other people?"

"Well, that's because real stories never truly end. I'll tell you the rest tomorrow if you like. Otherwise, your parents will worry that you're not home."

_---or would they? Or do they? Don't they?_

She followed the last of the children to the door and met Zelgadis there. She watched as the last child disappeared to the other side of the city wall before turning her attention to him. He found it hard to believe that anyone would mistake her for a boy.

_ ". . .With their own justice, love, and happiness for no one but themselves. . .princesses. Aren't they?_

"My apologies, traveler," she said, "You must be tired from your journey". She backed away from the door to make room for his entry. Her eyes directed him to a stool set by a low table. Only after he sat down did she sheath her sworn and prop it against the wall. She did this as if there was no significance to this gesture. He did not watch as she retrieved a kettle and two mismatched stoneware cups. She placed these on the table as he took stock of his surroundings.

_. . .So lucky? Isn't it? _

The room had the appearance of being accustomed to one before it had been hastily set up for two---except that it had returned to housing one and the space now missed two. The hovel---one would certainly be un-generous to call it that, but it was little more that a shack no matter how clean and ordered---seemed to like Zelgadis's presence, regardless if its occupant did or not. Amelia noticed his preoccupation.

"It suits me," she said, although he would have rather not thought so. She filled a cup with water from the kettle and watched as he drank, not filling her own until he finished. She was wearing his glove, although it had been altered, ill-fitted to her smaller hand unused to a sword's hilt. There was something leaner and harder about her now, as if to become more refined she had to come undone.

_. . .Being a princess for no one but themselves. Always? The way it should be, shouldn't it? _

"You will have to forgive me," she said rising and moving to a stool beside the hearth, "it is late and I've had a long day."

"If you don't---I mean, I can leave," he said while turning to face her. She had hung her cape and shirt on a small peg protruding from the mud-brick wall. A heavy bandage had been wrapped around her chest.

"There's no need---it is no trouble," She lowered herself onto the bench to remove her boots. He wondered if there was a time before they'd begun having the same conversation before he decided it was, and had always been, a test. She re-situated herself so that her back was facing him. He was charmed by her unnecessary modesty. He smiled and set down his cup before joining her by the fire.

_. . .Isn't it?"_

-------------------------------------------------------

Just as the last time, he chose not to consider the consequences of his actions until the morning. And the morning came, and he decided that they did not matter. Unlike before, he stayed long enough to see if she was awake. He decided he liked the way the blanked draped over her quiet form.

"Are you going to leave?" she asked.

"Not right now," he watched her register the conditional tone of his answer. It was a slight change. Her eyes glazed over for the briefest moment and he would've missed it had he not been watching for it.

"It is dangerous for you to stay in one place for too long," she said. He pushed back the hair that had fallen over her eyes. It was cut unevenly, out of a haste he suspected turned to apathy over the months. He could tell she was self-conscious about it. Perhaps she had abandoned any attempt to mask her vanity, having more pressing matters to dwell upon.

"Your father is not very happy with me,' he said pulling his hand away.

"Yes. He can be quite adamant sometimes." He had no doubt that the King was just as displeased with his daughter as he was with him.

"There are people in Seyruun who love and miss you, Amelia."

"Yes," she said, drawing a vertical line down the middle of his forehead with her finger, "I know."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said turning away from him. His eyes traced the contours of the blanket folds clinging to her frame.

"Your sister told me she would wait for us in Seyrune. She didn't strike me as the type to take refusal very well." the blankets rustled as if she were going to move, but then lay still again.

"I've been told Gracia could leave that impression," she said flatly.

"Amelia," he said, reaching to touch her back. She did not flinch, but instead turned to face him again.

"What do you suppose will happen?"

"Something. Anything. Everything."

"Hadn't it already?"

"I suppose so."

"And you?"

"I suppose so."

The End.


	6. Chapter 6

Creator's note 6---

A little bonus for you. I strung together all of the "princess" mini-narratives together in their proper sequence and structure. I decided to write and include them in the text in response to a review that told me I got Amelia's character completely wrong. Apparently, asking people if they behaved the same when they were 19 as they did when they were 14 didn't seem to cut it, even though the answer is fairly obvious, (I used to wear all black and listen to techno back then, before that I dressed up like the girls from "Clueless"—those versions of me seem like complete strangers). Well anyway, I got to play around with parallel narrative a little, which always makes me happy. I got to insert a little bit of her point of view and still tell the story I wanted to tell.

I wanted to write an obsessive love story (cue Phil Collins "Against All Odds"), and I did. I guess the whole post-modern meta-fictional bit it that it was really a story about my obsessive love for Amelia's character. I was Zelgadis, and I molded Amelia like Pygmalion so I could fall in love with her, but then it wasn't real, it was too easy and she had to leave the both of us so she could become real. I didn't want her to "fix" him. No good relationships are built on that premise because people can only fix themselves and have no business trying to do it for anyone else. Zelgadis had to abandon her---he had his own stuff to fix, andfalling in love with the idea of a person never works. He had to meet her somewherein acompletely differentenviornment, so they could look eachother in the eye on equal terms before they could decide what to do with themselves.

Ultimately, the more I thought about it, the more impossible their relationship seemed to be, though this is largely circumstantial. But I didn't make up the part about Amelia being in love with Zelgadis, and I didn't make up the end credits of "Try". And "impossible" is not the same thing as "implausible". So I said to myself, "make it work!", and four years later I finished my story. Thanks for reading.

_"Once upon a time, there was a princess. She had a father, a mother, and a sister who she loved very much, and they were very happy in their beautiful kingdom. But all was not happy in the kingdom. One day, the mother was killed by dissidents, and the sister ran away. Her father, the prince, could not stop these things from happening, but he did keep the princess from going after her sister. When the princess asked him why they did not follow her, her father said it was because they needed to stay in the kingdom and bring justice to the people who caused the loss of her mother and sister. The princess agreed to stay, because she loved her father and wanted to help him bring justice to the kingdom, too. These things were very true, but I think the princess had begun to wish she were a prince so she could fight for justice just like her father. Her father had told her she could fight for justice as a princess, not as a prince, and she agreed because princes needed swords and she was afraid of them because that was how her mother died. Then her father told her, that because they loved each other they wouldn't keep any secrets between them, and because she loved her father, the princess agreed to keep this promise as well_. . . ."

_"_. . ._Once upon a time, there was a princess, and with her father, together, they brought justice to their land and the kingdom was happy again. The princess was happy fighting for justice with her father and because they loved each other, the princess never kept any secrets between them. But perhaps the princess was not as happy as she seemed. She promised never to forget what had happened to her mother and her sister, and though she loved her father, she thought that maybe he couldn't save them because one prince was not enough to bring justice to the land. So she learned magic instead of how to use a sword. This way she might someday, and in her own way, become strong enough to be a prince before anyone would notice what she had been doing. Without knowing it, she had begun to keep secrets. The princess grew up, and because she and her father had brought so much justice to their own kingdom, the princess wanted to do the same for the lands that existed beyond its walls so that no one else would lose their mothers and sisters. By now she believed she was really a prince who only pretended to be a princess. She felt guilty for keeping this secret, but it would be okay, because she loved her father. When she asked her father about those lands, he laughed and said that, yes, it was true that other lands needed justice too, but she was a princess and needed to stay in her own kingdom because that was how a princess was supposed to fight for justice_. . . ._"_

_"_. . ._Once upon a time, there was a princess. She had promised her father that she would stay in the kingdom and be a good princess, because she loved her him, and until he asked her to stay in the kingdom, he had never asked for anything from her except that she never keep secrets from him. But she was beginning to think that he had been keeping secrets from her too, so she didn't feel so guilty about being a secret prince anymore---and once you break a promise, it becomes easy to break others; you can't remember how many you've broken, especially if you can't forget your love, like the princess couldn't, so your love makes you forget, because from the beginning her promises were replaced by secrets. It had been a long time since her mother died, and the princess had almost forgotten her sister. But she still thought about other lands and the people with mothers and sisters who need justice too. So, when her father left their kingdom to go on adventures and bring justice to those other lands (because he was a prince), the princess secretly followed after him. You see, she had begun to think that because of what happened to her mother, her sister had left so that she could be a prince and fight for justice. Because they were sisters and shared the same heart, there could be no secrets between them, and she knew that she hadn't been left behind. If the princess left, she wouldn't have to be a princess anymore and could be a prince and she would find her sister, who had really been waiting for her the whole time, and they would do these things together. So it happened again. The princess had another secret to keep from her father_. . . ._"_

_"_. . ._Once upon a time there was a princess. She did not find her sister, but she found other people who fought for justice and she began to travel and have adventures with them. Her father let her go, because he loved his daughter, and love, too busy loving to remember, forgets promises made to replace his own secrets. With tears in his eyes, he said 'I am so proud of my daughter who has grown up, now she is bringing justice to other lands, like a good princess!' He didn't know about her secrets, but it was okay because she loved her father and she promised to make everything he said true. And the princess was happy because she thought she would find love and justice and that finally her secret wish to be a prince would be fulfilled. This was true. She was having adventures and fighting for justice, and eventually she fell in love with a man. She wanted them to stay together forever because she thought that she didn't have to keep secrets from them and they would understand this. But they had all been so busy with adventures and fighting for justice that she couldn't tell them her secrets. She realized this was the price of being a prince. And she couldn't tell the man she was in love with that she loved him because she couldn't love him as a prince. The princess and her new friends brought justice to the world many times. But people were still unhappy and many mother still died and sisters still ran away. The princess learned that she hadn't grown up like her father had said, and she was very sad because she had broken her promises to him and even her secrets were a lie, because she didn't bring justice to the world, couldn't find a sister she never knew, and she was really only a princess pretending to be a prince_. . . ._"_

_"_. . ._Once upon a time, there was a princess. Her adventures were over and her friends went their separate ways. She told the man she was in love with that she loved him, because she was tired of keeping secrets. He promised they would meet again and she was happy for just those words because she no longer expected anything to amount to much. All her beliefs had proved unfounded, and she herself had broken every promise she had ever made. She returned to her kingdom because she was tired of pretending to be a prince and tired of keeping secrets. She would be a princess again, the only thing she was meant to be, and fight for justice the way a princess would. Her father, who in his dotage had forgotten which promises had been made and broken for what secrets he couldn't remember had been kept by whom, cried when he saw her. He said, 'I am so proud of my grown-up daughter who has come back from bringing justice to the world. My daughter is a good princess and everyone will be happy and we will keep no secrets between us!' The princess embraced her father because she loved him, but she knew that all good princesses had to keep secrets and that she had to forget her love to fight for justice. And the princess was good and her kingdom loved her because she brought justice to them and they were happy. She tried to forget the man she loved who traveled to all the other lands she could no longer see and have adventures in. But she could share his adventures and see those lands as he described them in his letters, and she couldn't be jealous because that was the only way she could love him as a princess and still secretly be a prince. She knew that was the price of being one_. . . ._"_

_"_. . ._Once upon a time there was a princess. And the letters had stopped coming because the man she loved no longer sent them. The princess didn't have time to be sad and no time to keep secrets about love or adventures. She was too busy being a princess and making her kingdom happy. She didn't even have to fight for justice anymore---instead of using a sword, she went to meetings and signed documents and instead of using magic she helped the poor, gave hugs to the children and visited the sick (though the kingdom was so happy she soon could only see the children from far in front of their benches at the schools she built for them and send gifts to the hospitals she built and wave to the employees hired off the streets to build and run these public works). She was happy being a good princess---you see, it would've been of no use to think about her sadness. It was no secret that her father had forgotten she had ever wanted to be a prince, and even so could not remember if and why he'd wanted to keep her from being one. He sobbed when he told her, 'I am so proud of my daughter but I will have to give her away because she has grown up and must marry a prince so they can bring happiness and justice to the kingdom in my place!" And because she loved her father, the princess saw many suitors, even though she knew that most of them hadn't grown up and were only pretending to be princes. They didn't understand the price of being one and she was only pretending to see them because she was too busy being a princess and fighting for justice in her kingdom, which, if it was happy or not, the princes ultimately didn't really care. Then one day the man she loved fulfilled his promise to her, and returned from the lands she was too busy to see and couldn't have adventures in. When she saw him, she couldn't decide whether she was happy or sad because it was too late to love him as a princess anymore, and she was never a real prince in the first place_. . . ._"_

_"_. . ._Always upon any time, there are little girls. It is the secret wish of them all to want to be princesses. As princesses, everyone will love them because they would bring everyone justice and happiness by being beautiful and good and pretending secretly (even unbeknownst from themselves) to be princes. Because a good princess keeps promises, not secrets. And a princess would never need to think of swords because soon she will meet a prince, and because she is beautiful and good and makes nice promises without secrets, the prince will fall in love with her always, and for always, and then together they will have adventures where justice is done always, and for always, and no one ever dies and everyone is happy always, and for always. But little girls forget the price of this. They all go home sleepy-eyed from playing pretend all day instead of learning their home crafts, history, geography, civics, fencing, and magic lessons. Once home, their fathers, mothers, and sisters, only pretending to scold, will proudly tuck them into bed with good-night yarns, because they love them (and understand that it's far easier to make up the stories than it is to read into the truth), where little girls can continue to play pretend princesses in their dreams. Little girls forget the price of this because they are never taught, the love of their fathers, mothers, and sisters forgets to tell them, and sadly often little girls' love for the empty promise of a princess, love too busy to even remember pretend. Instead they think, 'Wouldn't it be lucky if I really was a princess!' then, surely, they would get a happily ever after---or would they? Or do they? Don't they? With their own justice, love and happiness for no one but themselves_. . ._princesses. Aren't they? So lucky? Isn't it? Being a princess for no one but themselves. Always? The way it should be, shouldn't it? Isn't it?"_


End file.
